Black Eyes
by Capella
Summary: Finished! Sequel to Shadow of a Doubt. Harry comes back to Hogwarts with a blindness that no one can help. Upon his return to Middle earth, Harry experiences a few changes, and Legolas finds himself a victim of Harry's new personality. UPDATED Dec. 31, 2
1. Eight Forty

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter One: Eight Forty  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: Yay! Sequel to Shadow of a Doubt finally here!   
  
Jeez, I thought I wasn't going to even START it until July -- but here it is. I just got blindsided by the inspiration express and I had to write it. And good Lord, am I excited about it. As soon as I figured out the entire plotline I called my friend to squeal like a schoolgirl about it. XD   
  
Just so you guys know, 8:40 refers to Dickens's Great Expectations -- the character of Miss Havisham, when she received a letter on her wedding day from her fiance, telling her that he was not going to marry her, stopped all her clocks at the exact moment she got the letter. You guessed it -- 8:40. It intrigued me so I figured, hey, that sounds like a cool title and it's sort of relevant.   
  
I finally saw Moulin Rouge and I have fallen deeply in love with Ewan McGregor. That man is gorgeous. *melts*  
  
Well, I'm off like a prom dress. Read and review, feel free to express your shock/joy/screams of anger.  
  
____________________  
  
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. "   
  
-Oliver Wendell Holmes  
  
____________________  
  
"What exactly do you mean by gone?"  
  
He took an almost inordinately large amount of pride in the fact that he'd managed to keep his voice calm, steady, Slytherin. It would have made his father proud, if his father had not disowned him at the end of fifth year for dating Voldemort's hated rival. He'd had to rely on the Dursley's obliviousness and quite a few of Harry's Galleons to keep him fed and clothed that summer. Since their sixth year, Dumbledore had let him stay the summer at Hogwarts.   
  
Hermione sighed, obviously at the end of her rope. He would have enjoyed it any other time.   
  
"Draco, look. I don't really want to explain it all again."  
  
"And isn't it a little late for you to be telling me this? He disappeared four days ago!"  
  
Hermione got that stubborn mule look on her face, and she obviously lathering herself into a rage. Her voice was testy when she spoke. "As you can imagine I've had a very hard time with this --"  
  
"What, and I haven't?" Draco snapped, loosing a bit of his cool and more of his patience. "You come in here, give me this complete rubbish about elves and alternate dimensions, and that's it? And here I thought you were the embodiment of the perfect witch, Granger. Looks like that's the first time you've ever proven me wrong."  
  
"Oh shut up, you jerk," Hermione muttered. Draco raised an eyebrow, and she looked away and blushed a little. "Give over, Malfoy. I hope you realize the only reason I would ever be in here --" She waved her arms around, gesturing vaguely to the Slytherin's room "-- is because Harry asked me to tell you before he left."  
  
That pricked Draco's attention a bit. "He asked you to tell me?" he asked, intrigued. She gave him a withering glare that he returned, full force and with an added sardonic raised eyebrow. "Look, Granger, just tell me the truth already. It can't that horrible of a story, even if you insist on covering it up with fairy tale nonsense. Did he elope with the Weasel? Finnegan? Flich? Spit it out, Granger."  
  
"I told you the truth, Malfoy!" It appeared she'd reached the end of her questionable patience. "If you don't like it, fine. I don't really care. I never realized why he dated you in the first place, you ignorant ass."  
  
That stung just a bit. It hit a little too close to a very sensitive place he'd had ever since fifth year -- when he had wondered the exact same thing himself.   
  
"Do you really want to know why?" he purred, getting up from his chair smoothly. He'd grown a good few inches, and now he towered over her. Now she glared up at him, but she knew as well as he how intimidating he could be. "It could be the night I found him behind a suit of armor -- crying about how you and the Weasel had finally started dating, and how he just knew that he would end up being left behind, the third wheel, the extra. Well, guess what, Granger? Do you know who was there to kiss him and make him feel all right again? Not you, for sure. You never even knew he'd been out of his dorm in the first place. God, and you think you were his closest friend." He looked down his nose at her, watching how her expression changed from anger to shame to anger again. At his presumptuousness, he supposed.   
  
"I don't even know why I came here in the first place," she ground out and turned around, all set to retreat from their little spat. "I should have known better."  
  
After she'd left, Draco sat down again heavily in his chair, mind occupied with something that had been on his mind since Granger had come in there spouting her foolish fantasy stories.   
  
He still had Harry's invisibility cloak.  
  
It shouldn't have mattered as much as it did. He and Harry'd had a level of coolness between them ever since the split in sixth year; Harry had kept his distance from supposed self-righteousness, Draco had kept his from a large amount of hurt and larger amount of anger. They'd talked since that day, trying to hang on to a bit of the friendship they'd had, but it hadn't worked. He wondered why Harry had asked Hermione to tell him that Harry had left.   
  
Before Harry had disappeared, Draco had asked for Harry's invisibility cloak. It had been a matter of pure spite -- Draco had wanted to get Harry jealous, had not-so-subtly implied that the use of the cloak would be to sneak out to the Astronomy Tower with Blaise. He hadn't expected Harry to lend it to him.   
  
Draco sighed, and got up again, heading for the common room door. He'd have to catch Granger before she got too far ahead. Damn, but he hated being wrong.  
  
"Granger!" he shouted down the dungeon hall, attracting some startled glances his way from the few Slytherins heading to bed. "Come back, damn it! Come ba--hey, watch it!"  
  
The small student who had bounced off his back and onto her own blinked up at him from the floor, hazel eyes owl-huge from behind her glasses. Freckles liberally dotted her cute, upturned nose.   
  
"I'm sorry," she squeaked with a strong Irish accent. She smiled tentatively, showing a gap between her two front teeth. "I didn't think anyone would be down here so late -- I -- "  
  
He held up a hand to stop her and adopted his harassed, irritated prefect tone. "It's getting late. Unless you have to talk to him right this moment, I suggest you get back to your common room." The girl showed no sign of movement, only continued to stare in his direction. He sighed, feeling a little guilty.  
  
"What did you have to talk to him about?"  
  
"I'm having trouble with my boggart report," she whispered, sounding a bit scared. "We didn't get through the lesson because Harry Potter -- you know --"  
  
Draco blinked in surprise. This was new. "No, I don't know. Harry Potter what?"  
  
The girl squirmed a little where she stood, uncomfortable. "We were working on boggarts in class and Harry Potter was there to help us -- the boggart came out of the closet, but it wasn't what everyone said it would be. It was this -- tall man with black hair, and he had pointed ears!" Her talk had begun to get faster and faster, and her accent became more and more pronounced until he could barely understand a word she said. "And Harry didn't do anything and I think it was because he couldn't! And the elf said, he asked Harry if Harry had forgot him and the elf called Harry sweet and the elf had a whip. I've never met an elf before. He looked pretty but he looked really cruel, too. And I --"  
  
"Stop," he said, head whirling a little. This -- cruel elf was what Harry had disappeared with? Damn it. He'd always know that Harry had the sense of a mailbox.  
  
"What's your name again?" he asked, for no other reason besides that he couldn't think of anything else to say. His head was feeling strangely fogged.  
  
"Fiona Thatcher," the girl said, a bit more calmly this time. Only a bit. "I'm a second year."  
  
"Your surname doesn't sound Irish," he murmured absently. She sniffed a little.  
  
"Well, maybe my great great grandfather thatched roofs," she said, obviously a little offended. He didn't feel like soothing her hurt pride at the moment.  
  
"Maybe," he agreed. "I'm sure Professor Lupin won't mind if you ask him about your lesson tomorrow. It's getting late. Return to your common room, Miss Thatcher."  
  
He heard her footsteps echoing down the nearly empty hallway but ignored them, his mind on other, more important things.  
  
_____________________  
  
"Granger! Slow the fuck down!"  
  
Hermione whirled round, glaring poisonously at the blonde walking up to her. "Watch your language," she hissed. "You're a prefect! Who do you think the first-years look at to be their role model?"  
  
Draco looked down at her with veiled contempt and irritation. "Don't push me, Granger. I couldn't care less what the babies think. Look, I need your -- your help." He spat the last word out, as if it were disgusting. She almost felt like rubbing her hands together and cackling.  
  
"Well, isn't that just a coincidence?" she asked, watching as his lips twisted with anger. "I --"  
  
"Draco! You dropped your wand!"  
  
Hermione turned around and watched a curly haired girl bounce cheerfully up to them. She turned to Draco. "You know her?"  
  
"We ran into each other in the hall," he replied dryly, and looked at the young girl, who was staring up at Draco in something that looked like awe and fright. Hermione couldn't blame her; she'd been on the receiving end of that silver cold glare often enough to know its effects. "What did you want again, Miss Thatcher?"  
  
For some reason, that name jarred something in her memory. She frantically tried to recall where she'd heard it.   
  
"You dropped your wand," the girl said, her accent jumbling the words almost unintelligibly. "I tripped over it." Hermione looked at Draco's face just as it got a little panicked, a little frightened. He slapped his hand to the pocket of his robe and then stared at the girl.   
  
"Let me have it," he said quickly, and held out his hand. The girl held out her own to him. Draco's fingers closed over the wand and he gave a little sigh of relief before pocketing it. "Thank you, Fiona," he said, and Hermione was surprised to hear honest sincerity in his voice before he turned back to Hermione. "If that's all?" he threw over his shoulder to the girl, and she turned around, walking slowly away.  
  
Draco took a deep breath and then released it. His gray eyes were filled with conflicting emotions, none of which Hermione even could begin to decipher. "Look, Granger -- Hermione -- I'm sorry." The words seemed to be torn from his throat reluctantly. "I suppose I have been a bit on edge since Harry's disappearance. Please, help me."  
  
Hermione hesitated for a few moments, and Draco's liquid gray flickered dangerously. His lips thinned out in anger or irritation.  
  
"All right," she said quickly. "What do you need me to do?"  
  
Draco paused. "Harry left his Invisibility cloak with me," he drawled, his previous emotion gone. "I want to return it to him. As you can imagine, if he's in a different dimension, this could be difficult."  
  
Hermione blinked. She had rather thought it to be something life-threatening. It came as an incredible suprise that Draco was actually trying to help someone. Especially since that someone was Harry.  
  
"Whatever happened between you two?" Hermione asked, her voice gone soft with sympathy. Draco face got angry and closed-off.  
  
"Morbid curiosity, Granger?" he hissed dangerously. Hermione saw his fists clench at his sides. He looked ready to do violence.  
  
"No," she answered. "But Harry refused to tell me, and I think I deserve to know. He is one of my best friends."  
  
If possible, Draco looked even more coldly furious than he had been. "Fine," he spat. "I'll find someone else to help me. I should have known better than to ask for help from you." He whirled around and started to stalk off.  
  
Hermione tsked and shook her head. "Touchy subject, Malfoy?" she muttered under her breath. When he didn't stop or turn around, she sighed, and started walking after him. "Wait, Draco. Look, I'll help you. You don't have to tell me."  
  
He stopped but didn't say a word or turn. She started to get annoyed. "What do you want, an apology letter?" she asked, irritated.   
  
"Got any bright ideas, Granger?" he asked, still turned away from her.  
  
"Dumbledore knows about Harry," Hermione offered. "In fact, he's the one who came here from Middle-earth in the first place."  
  
"I know that," he snapped. "I was listening to you the first time. So, what, you think we should go talk to him?"  
  
"That would be what I was implying, yes."  
  
"Fine. Let's go, then. As stimulating as this conversation is, I don't have all night to sit around talking to you." With that, he simply started walking forward again, forcing Hermione to run in order to catch up with him. She sighed. The rest of the walk to Dumbledore's was spent in an uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Black licorice," Hermione muttered as they came up to the statue in front of Dumbledore's office. However, as she and Draco stepped on and the statue's stairs slowly started to move upwards, she heard something she had not expected to hear: raised voices. She motioned for Draco to be quiet and tiptoed up to the door. While the voice sounded reasonably serene, it took obvious effort to keep it that way.  
  
"No, I do not know what happened. It happened almost immediately -- it only took a few days before he completely as you see him now. The effects took place nearly a day after we arrived."  
  
Hermione gasped. That voice -- she'd heard that voice before!  
  
"Why the hell are we waiting out here?" Draco hissed in her ear. "I don't have time to eavesdrop. I'm going in." Before Hermione could stop him, he knocked on the door. All conversation on the other side stopped.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Draco pushed open the door, and Hermione had no choice but to follow him into the room. She looked to her left and saw Legolas sitting in a chair, looking surprised and a little bit annoyed. When he saw her, he gave her a little smile. Draco, however, didn't notice any of this and simply marched up to Dumbledore's desk.  
  
"Professor, I know this probably isn't the best time, but this is urgent. Hermione said you were the one who could help me. Harry left his invisibility cloak here, and I must return it to him. Please." Hermione realized with no small amount of shock that she had never heard Draco say 'please' in all her years at Hogwarts, and he had said it twice in the same day. He still had not seen Legolas.  
  
"Do you have the cloak with you, Draco?"  
  
Draco blinked in surprise. "What?"  
  
"Do you have it with you?" Dumbledore asked again, a twinkle in his eye.   
  
"No, of course not," he said. "I didn't think that I would need it right away." He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Do I?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I only thought it would have been quite convenient if you had happened to bring it along, since Harry is already here."   
  
Draco's mouth fell slightly open in disbelief, and Hermione was almost positive that she had the exact same shocked expression on her face as he. "What?" she stammered. Dumbledore gestured to a chair in the shadows, off to their right, that neither Hermione nor apparently Draco had noticed. Harry sat there, in a black tunic, green leggings, and brown boots, his head bent and his hair obscuring his face.   
  
"Harry!" Hermione said, grinning. Harry didn't look up.  
  
"Hey, Hermione," he said, still looking at the floor. Hermione frowned in confusion. "Draco."  
  
"Harry?" Draco asked, cautiously. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No." The hair over Harry's eyes swayed slightly as Harry shook his head negatively. "And you can keep my Invisibility cloak, Draco. I gave it to you. Remember?"  
  
Hermione glanced at Draco and saw Draco's eyes widen. "But you -- you didn't say you were giving it to me. Harry, it's your father's!"  
  
Harry shrugged and didn't respond or look up. Hermione began to worry. But before she could say anything, Draco spoke up for her.  
  
"Harry, there's something wrong. Why won't you look at me? Harry, God damn it!"  
  
"Fine," Harry whispered almost inaudibly. He looked up, and it took a moment for Hermione to notice. When she did, her gasp was drowned out by Draco's "Oh, my God!"  
  
His eyes were a milky white and focused on a point somewhere over Hermione's left shoulder.  
  
"I'm blind, okay? I'm blind."  
  
___________________  
  
A/N: Heh, heh, heh. 


	2. Mnemosyne

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Two: Mnemosyne  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: It's me again!   
  
Just so you know, the time in Middle-earth and Hogwarts is sort of screwed up. It's a bit on the one-half side, so if Harry is in Middle-earth two days, that amounts to four or so days in Hogwarts.  
  
And before you ask, no, Draco is not jealous. Er...well, perhaps just a bit. But it's mostly protectiveness. He's not thinking "oh no, that bad man has stolen away my boyfriend." It's more like, "that bad man is going to hurt Harry, who just so happens to be my ex." Right.   
  
Just as a note -- Mnemosyne is the Greek Titan of memory. :)  
  
Ahh -- it felt good, all the Draco and Harry interaction in this chapter. Actually, that's pretty much all it was. ...oh well!   
  
And don't worry your ickle heads about Legolas, because he'll be in there in the next chapter, as seksi as ever. I'm not ignoring him. I lurve him. *cuddles*  
  
Well, that's all from the peanut gallery this time. See you guys again soon!   
  
Oh yeah, review, please? I can't tell you guys how much I like your reviews. Thanks!  
  
____________________  
  
"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another. "  
  
-- Luciano de Crescenzo  
  
________________  
  
In the moments following Harry's startling admission, there was a long period of silence. Hermione couldn't think of anything to say. Harry's lips were pressed together tightly in emotion, and his hand clenched the armrests of the chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. Hermione couldn't seem to stop staring at his eyes, which used to be a beautiful green but now a had a strange pale sheen.  
  
"Harry -- how?" Hermione whispered. The question had started in her mind as a coherent thought, but somehow all she could get out now were those two words. She seemed to be doing better than Draco, who was staring at Harry with his mouth still open and his gray eyes wide.  
  
Instead of answering, Harry looked down again. A voice from his left, a person who Hermione had completely forgotten was there, answered instead.  
  
"We do not know," Legolas said quietly. "The day we arrived, Harry complained that his vision was getting blurry. And the next day, he was as you see him."  
  
Draco had turned from gaping at Harry to gaping at Legolas. "Who are you?" he asked.   
  
"I am Legolas. Harry and I met in Middle-earth." The elf seemed completely unfazed in the face of Draco's sudden suspicion.  
  
"You," Draco breathed. "I was told about you."  
  
Harry's milky-white stare was temporarily covered as he blinked in confusion. "Draco, what in the world are you talking about?"  
  
"I was told about your boggart experience, Harry. And how this," he shot a venomous glare at Legolas, "was for some reason the subject of your worst fears. And you went off with him? For God's sake, Potter, do you ever think?"  
  
Harry looked confused for a moment, and then relieved. "So you don't know about..." Harry trailed off into silence.  
  
Draco frowned, glowering. "Know about what, Potter?" he asked suspiciously. Hermione saw Harry get that stubborn mule look that he always adopted when he was going to avoid a confrontation.  
  
"Look, Draco, it's a long story. I'll tell you later, just -- just not now, okay? Please."  
  
Draco gifted Legolas with one last poisonous look before he turned his attention back to Harry. "Fine," he snarled. "I don't care. What are you two doing here, anyway?"  
  
Harry bit his lower lip. "After I -- I went blind, Legolas and I went to see Gandalf. But he couldn't fix my eyesight, and none of the Valar could, either. So, we came to see Dumbledore, since he is a --" Suddenly Harry seemed to catch himself, and he stopped. "A great wizard, I mean."  
  
Dumbledore looked grim. "But I have performed all the possible spells and potions and medical remedies to fix eyesight, and none have worked. Do you possibly have any ideas, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione shook her head, speechless. Never before had she heard of a problem that the Headmaster couldn't fix. It seemed -- almost impossible. She glanced over at Draco, who was looking a bit more like he usually did; his stunned, vulnerable expression had been replaced with his usual contemptuous air. For some reason, seeing him like that cleared her mind. Everything seemed a bit less unrealistic and a bit more normal. A bit, a least.   
  
But she couldn't get Harry's eyes out of her mind.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, I have a staff meeting in five minutes. If I do not get the opportunity to see you again, Harry, I wish you the best of luck." As the doors shut behind the Headmaster, Draco turned his attention back on Legolas.  
  
"So," Draco drawled, only a hint of the earlier venom in his tone. "Now what are you two planning on doing? Are you going to stay here and look for a cure? But you know, Potter, I don't think that's really necessary. After all, Legolas could be of use -- you could always just use him as a seeing-eye elf."   
  
Hermione saw Legolas's lips tighten in agitation, and she thought for a moment about warning Draco of the consequences of making a very dangerous warrior elf angry. But then she thought about it again. Perhaps it was time that Draco had some humility beat into him again, after all.  
  
"Oh, will you stop already, Malfoy?" Harry said, obviously exasperated. "I didn't come here for this. I came here for a cure, and since there is none to be found, I'm leaving tonight. What you think is of no importance to me, whatsoever."   
  
Draco's teeth were bared in a surprisingly animal-like snarl. Hermione realized that it was probably the most emotion she'd ever seen him show, and realized with a bit of amusement that Harry seemed to have that effect on everyone. "Fine," Draco snapped. "Leave. That seems to be one of your finest talents." With that parting blow, Draco stormed out, slamming the double wooden doors behind him. Harry looked almost stunned. Those unnerving faded green eyes were wide.  
  
"Let's go, Harry," Legolas said softly and walked over to where Harry was standing, taking hold of one of Harry's arms. Harry seemed to snap out of his daze, and he shook his head ruefully.  
  
"No," he said. "I have to talk to him. He's right about a few things, sometimes. And we do have some -- unresolved issues -- that I have to get out of the way. After that, we can leave. You can wait for me here, and Hermione can take me to the Slytherin common room."   
  
Legolas took his hand off Harry's arm, an unhappy look on his face. "But --"  
  
Hermione blinked. "I can?" How did he know that she'd been there before? Harry smiled, the beauty of which was diminished slightly since he was peering off to the right of Hermione. Legolas sat in a chair and watched Harry carefully.  
  
"I've known about you and Blaise since sixth year, Hermione. I --" Harry seemed as if he was going to go on, but he stopped abruptly and his smile faded.  
  
"And how did you find out about that?" she asked cautiously. He sighed, and then shrugged.  
  
"After we broke up, Draco asked to use my cloak to go meet Blaise in the Astronomy Tower. I gave the cloak to him, but I got jealous, which I think was what he meant to do all along. I went to tell Blaise not to go, and he was surprised, to say the least." The corner of Harry's mouth twitched up, a shadow of his former smile. "It turns out that he was going to the Tower that night, but not with Draco. With you."  
  
Hermione gaped.   
  
"So, are you going to take me to the Slytherin common room or not?"  
  
"Sure," she said, and since he couldn't see her smile, she put a gentle hand on his arm. For the first time, she saw how vulnerable he had become with his blindness, and he groped for her hand and grasped onto it like a drowning man. Hermione's logical mind suddenly came up with a plan.  
  
"Harry, since you became blind, have you tried walking by yourself?"  
  
Harry's face became slightly panicked. "No," he whispered. "You -- you're not going to make me, are you?"  
  
Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes," she said firmly. "I want you to try and walk to the Slytherin dorm room without me holding on to you."  
  
If possible, Harry looked even more frightened. "I can't," he protested. "Everyone -- everyone will see me!"  
  
"It's late," Hermione corrected gently. "Everyone is in their dorms. No one will see you. Trust me."  
  
"Okay," Harry said. "Okay. But let's do it before I lose my nerve." He kept his hand grasped tightly in Hermione's until she let go. She took a few steps back. Once she had let his hand go, the panicked look came back onto his face.  
  
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said loudly. "Walk towards my voice. I'm right here."  
  
"I can't do this, Hermione," he said, voice shaking. His head was bent towards the floor and his eyelashes were wet with tears. His hands were spread out in front of him. "I can't."  
  
"Yes, you can. You've been in this office thousands of times. There are no obstacles in front of you. You have other senses than your sight, Harry." She let her voice get harder. "Have you forgotten how to walk?"  
  
Harry blinked, and then took a deep breath. He shuffled forward, back bent slightly, hands out in front of him. His eyes, seeing nothing, were staring out at nothing. He stopped after a few moments, and his face was white with fear and strain.  
  
Hermione heard a small sound behind her, and glanced back to see Legolas gripping the arms of his chair with tears in his eyes, already half out of the chair. He seemed about ready to leap up and help Harry, but with a hand motion from Hermione he sat back down reluctantly.  
  
"Come on, Harry. You're not to me yet."  
  
Harry shuffled forward again, slowly, like an old man with arthritis. Finally, his left hand bumped into Hermione's stomach and his right hand touched the solid wood of the office door. Hermione grasped Harry's hand gently with her own.  
  
Hermione smiled. "Good. Now, can you do that all the way to the Slytherin dorm room?"  
  
Hermione could almost hear Harry's teeth grinding at her tone -- what one used to talk to the very small or the very slow. "Yes, Hermione," he said, but there was still uncertainty in his voice, and Hermione noted that the tears were not gone from his eyes. She opened the door.   
  
"Use your other senses, Harry, and listen to my voice. There's no obstacles in your way and I'll tell you about stairs." She walked backwards twenty steps, making sure to step loudly, and stopped. "Walk towards me."  
  
Harry's head was turned slightly to the right, as if cocking his ear to hear her better. He bit his lower lip, and took one step forward. As soon as his foot landed, he blinked, hands outstretched and moving around himself.  
  
"I don't -- I can't do it, Hermione. I can't. I swear to God, I can't do this."  
  
"You can, Harry! You can. I'm just a few steps in front of you. There's no stairs. You can do it."  
  
Hermione could see Harry's chest heaving with his racing, shallow breaths. "Okay," he said, and took a few shaky steps forward, his feet barely leaving the floor. Hermione waited patiently, talking to him occasionally or stomping her feet to let him know where she was. Finally he reached her.  
  
"That was great, Harry," she said, making sure to put the happiness in her voice. But he only turned his head away, and she could see a tear drop onto the floor.  
  
"What am I going to do, Hermione?" he asked. His face was twisted with anguish. "I can't function like this. I can't do anything like this. I -- what am I going to do?"  
  
For a moment she didn't know what to say. He felt her hesitation and he shut his eyes in despair, fisting his hand in the front of her sweater. Then somehow, the right words to say came to her.  
  
"Harry, I know you're stronger than this. This blindness -- Muggles live with it every day and they get along fine. And you don't know if it will last forever. It might not. And even if it does -- there are spells, pointing spells and navigation spells and I just bet that there's some things that we can find out in the library to help you. Just don't give up, Harry. We can get around this, I swear. Please."  
  
"I don't know," he said, but she could see that she had given him at least a little amount of hope. "But -- I'm ready to try it again."   
  
_____________________  
  
"All right, we're here, Harry."  
  
Harry remembered suddenly a drill that he had practiced in the dueling club, last year, against Draco. They had been practicing repelling temporary affliction spells, and Harry had been hit with a blindness spell right after he'd hit Draco with a jellylegs curse. Those few seconds, trapped in pitch blackness with no way to fight himself back to safety, had been the worst moments of his life. He had never told Ron or Hermione, but he could not remember a time when he was more frightened than during those black moments under the spell.   
  
He never dreamed that he'd be caught in what seemed like a living nightmare.  
  
"Harry, are you listening to me?"  
  
What he hated worst -- at least, one of the things he hated most -- was how scared he felt. Even during his imprisonment he'd never felt quite like this. Then, there had been the glimmer of hope that he could escape, but now...nothing.   
  
A hand landed on his arm, and he flinched, drawing back violently. God -- who was it -- he couldn't see! --  
  
"Harry? Are you all right?"  
  
Harry could hear the sounds of his own labored breathing echoing through the dungeon hall -- or at least, what he assumed was the dungeon hall. It felt different down here, something he hadn't noticed before, a sort of claustrophobic, damp feeling. He didn't like it. It felt a little too much like somewhere he'd been before, and for one panicked moment he imagined he was back in Mordor, in the dungeon, waiting for another of Sauron's visits. Then he felt the gentleness of Hermione's hand on his forearm, and the nightmare vanished.   
  
"Are we in the dungeons?" he asked, keeping his voice steady. He almost could anticipate what Hermione was doing, even though all he could see was darkness. She would nod, then realize that he couldn't see what she was doing. Then she'd speak --  
  
"We're outside of the common room."  
  
All of a sudden Harry felt a bit of panic overtake him. "I can't go in there, Hermione. They'll see -- I can't let anyone know, Hermione!"  
  
"It's okay! Calm down, I'll go in and get Draco. He rooms with Blaise. Wait right here."  
  
Hermione's hand left him, and he heard her speak the password. Then all he could hear was his own breathing and the soft sound of water dripping somewhere. And he was bereft of a guide in a desert of nothing but pitch blackness. Slowly, he backed up until his back hit a wall, and there he slid to the floor, shutting his eyes and pretending that the darkness he was trapped in was nothing but a dream.   
  
Suddenly there was a loud creak and slam as the common room doors opened and shut softly, and Harry heard Hermione's footsteps walk toward him. With a sense of accomplishment he realized that he'd recognized Hermione from only the weight she placed on each step and by the sound of her shoes. It was a start, at least.  
  
"Draco said he will be out in a bit," Hermione said. He could almost imagine her biting her lip, before she asked: "Do you want me to wait for you? I don't know -- I can't imagine him wanting to walk you back to the Gryffindor common room, or having the patience to. I'll just wait around the corner. Yell at me when you're ready."  
  
Without another word, he heard her shoes click off and turn a corner somewhere to his distant right. Without another person near him, hysteria began to press down on him again; and then, the common room doors opened.  
  
"It's me, Potter."  
  
"I know that," Harry snapped, nerves already on edge. "I heard you. I'm blind, not stupid."  
  
A silence followed that was almost tangible. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, using the wall at his back to slowly make his way to his feet.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you -- I came here to do the exact opposite."  
  
Draco sounded suspicious. "You did?" Harry knew exactly what he was doing; he could almost picture Draco standing there, feet slightly apart, arms crossed and brows furrowed, maybe chewing on his lower lip like he always had done when he was being serious. "For what?"  
  
For not trusting you. "For the way I acted in Dumbledore's office." I didn't mean to hurt you. "I didn't meant to say it that way. I should have listened to you."  
  
Harry could hear Draco's voice soften when he spoke next. "I suppose I didn't act like an angel, either. I just -- I met this girl outside, before I went to Dumbledore's. She was there during your boggart presentation, and she saw what the boggart transformed into. I made the connection. Maybe it wasn't such a good one." He paused. "Although I still don't trust him."  
  
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Draco. I --"   
  
"I want to go with you."  
  
The admission seemed to have been torn from Draco's throat without his permission and given life in the dank, dungeon hall. In the silence that followed, Harry could hear Draco's loud, unsteady breathing. Or was it his own?  
  
"What?" he asked, unable to believe what he had heard.   
  
"Nothing. Forget it, Potter." Was it his imagination, or had Draco sounded hurt? Harry heard Draco's footsteps stalk off in his characteristic long-strided swagger. With a sudden certainty, Harry knew that if Draco walked away now, Harry would never talk to him again.   
  
"You know," Harry said softly, with the same amount of sincerity that Draco had given his earlier unwilling admission, "I used to love watching the way your cloak billowed out behind you when you walked. Especially when you were angry." Harry heard Draco's footsteps stop, and slowly turn.   
  
"You did?" Draco said, his voice uncertain for once.   
  
"Yes." Harry smiled. "You always looked like such a tyrant."  
  
"Did I really," Draco said, pretending offense, though Harry could tell he was pleased. But when he spoke again, his voice was guarded. "I suppose you weren't so wrong after all."  
  
Harry drew a sharp breath. "Look, Draco --"  
  
"What happened?" Draco whispered. Harry had never heard him sound so vulnerable. It was faintly unnerving. "Why didn't you trust me enough?"  
  
"Draco, it was just -- we were all tense from the war, and after the attack I just suspected everyone, I guess."  
  
"But I was the only person from a different house who knew the password to the Gryffindor dorm room, wasn't I?" When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Draco cut him off sharply. "Forgive me. What I meant to say was that I was the only one who knew the dorm room and had a Dark Mark."  
  
Those words cut into Harry like a knife. He started to apologize, to say otherwise -- but he realized that had been exactly the case. During one of Voldemort's many uprisings, there had been a curse put on one of the Gryffindor rooms -- specifically, the sixth year dorm room -- Harry's own. The hex, a particularly vicious curse that somehow caused the blood in the body to bleed through one's pores, had killed one of his best friends. Dean. And Harry had suspected the first person who came to mind, whose father was a famous Death Eater. And who had the Dark Mark on his arm.  
  
"Draco -- I never meant to hurt you, I swear --"  
  
"God damn it, Harry, you accused me of killing one of your friends. You accused me of sleeping with you so that I could turn you over to Voldemort! And you expected me not to be hurt? They found the killer a month later, Harry. You still wouldn't speak to me."  
  
"I --" For the life of him, Harry couldn't think of anything to say. But Draco continued bitterly, ignoring him.  
  
"And then you started going out with the Weasel." The scorn and contempt in Draco's voice this time was not only for Ron, but for Harry as well. "You flaunted it in my face, Potter, and don't pretend you didn't mean to."  
  
At least this time Harry had some ammunition of his own. "Well, at least I didn't try and make you jealous with some childish trick. You didn't even meet Blaise in the Astronomy Tower, Draco. He was seeing Hermione. He told me."  
  
If possible, Draco sounded even more furious than he had before. "I'm not going to sit here and argue with you, Potter. If you don't need anything else, I'm leaving."  
  
"Wait," he said, before Draco could leave again. "Do you really want to come back to Middle-earth with Legolas and me?"  
  
Draco hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes," he said quietly. And then: "But your elf doesn't have to get himself worked up into a jealous lather. I'm not interested in you, anyway. I just want to keep an eye on that elf and make sure that you figure out how to get your sight back, is all."  
  
Harry had to smile at Draco's defensiveness. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you. But if you want to come, meet Legolas and I in Dumbledore's office tomorrow morning at around eight." He heard Draco's footsteps turn to walk back to the common room.  
  
"Oh, and Draco? Thanks."  
  
____________________  
  
A/N: *pops open a Mr Pibb and puts feet on desk* Ahhh, I love Harry/Draco interaction. But it was strange having them argue and I couldn't tell anything about what Draco looked like, only what he sounded like. Oh well. He was hot and pissed, let's leave it at that, shall we? 


	3. Blind Faith

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Three: Blind Faith  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: Here 'tis, my lovelies. *grins* And I thought that you guys should get a bit of reassurance -- as much as I love D/H, there will be slim to none of it in here. Lots of jealousy from Draco's end, at first, but after that it's friendship. I promise. I just love L/H too much. I also love making Draco a evil little snot. But he's MY evil little snot.  
  
Anyway, on a small side note, am I an idiot for not noticing that Erised (as in the Mirror or Erised) spelled backwards is desire? ....I can hear your resounding "yes's" from here, you know. *feels rather stupid*  
  
IMPORTANT! Just to clear things up. One year in Middle-earth is equal to roughly 3-4 months in Hogwarts. Katherine was transported a little over 18 years ago to M-E, which means it's been 5 years since she disappeared from Hogwarts. Keep that in mind :)  
  
Oh yeah, the Densaugeo curse makes one's teeth enlarge grotesquely. Draco used it on Hermione in fourth year.  
  
Well, that's it. Sorry for this not being out sooner, but I was at camp. And no, I wasn't a counselor -- which means I'm not THAT old -- make from that what you will. *grins* Anyway, here it is, chapter three: Blind Faith. (Get the relation? Harry's blind, blind faith?....yes?)  
  
_________________  
  
"Your eyes keep things well hidden   
  
Just a hint of what you're holding inside   
  
And the first day that I met you   
  
I consider that the first day of my life."  
  
-- Warrant, "Blind Faith"  
  
_________________  
  
"So, is that it?   
  
Legolas sighed and glanced over at the blonde. "What?"  
  
"That." Draco nodded towards the fist-sized crystal ball in Legolas's hands. "That's how you get from here to that other place? Doesn't look like it can take one person to an alternate dimension, let alone three." Legolas glanced sharply over at him, but he couldn't tell whether Draco was being sarcastic or if he was truly wondering. Then Draco gave him a tiny little smirk, and Legolas knew that he was being provoked.  
  
For not the first time since he'd come back, Legolas wished for his bow and arrows. Or maybe just a knife. Of course, killing Draco with his bare hands would be satisfying enough. "Yes," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. It had been Harry who insisted that Draco come back with them. Legolas's first instinct had been to be jealous, but strangely enough, as far as he could tell there had been no reason to be. "This is it. And it is enough."  
  
He looked over to see Harry, staring straight ahead and obviously trying to suppress a smile. The wind, chilly from coming off of the lake, was blowing his hair back away from his face and it gave Legolas an unobstructed view of his strangely beautiful milky-green eyes. Harry had opted not to wear his glasses, since he had no need to, but Legolas kept them back in Middle-earth just in case.  
  
"Patience," Harry leaned over to whisper. "I had to put up with him like this for seven years. You can do it for a few months." When Draco obviously overheard, and shot Harry an angry glance, Harry laughed as if he'd seen the heated look himself. "I can feel you glaring at me, Draco, so don't give me that look." He grinned. " 'Five because I don't like you, Potter'?" he said, mimicking Draco, and then laughed again. Legolas blinked, confused, as Draco rolled his eyes. Legolas saw the edges of his mouth quirk up for a moment, though.   
  
At least Harry had laughed again. If he had to drag Draco all over Middle-earth to make Harry smile, it was well worth it. Then he felt Draco's attention shift back to him, and the temperature around them seemed to drop. Legolas kept his eyes on Harry, who was staring blankly out over the lake, and pretended not to feel Draco's icy gaze on his face.  
  
"Well," Draco said. "If we're done with the pleasantries, then would it be alright to leave?"  
  
"I'm not waiting here for my health, Malfoy," Harry said pleasantly. "Hermione said she'd come to say goodbye to me."  
  
"We're waiting here for Granger?" Draco's lip curled back in a bit of a snarl. "I'd rather hex myself than wait here for that insipid --"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Hermione!"  
  
Hermione stood behind them on the lawn, unnoticed until she spoke up. She would have looked relatively calm but for her heavy breathing and her fists clenched at her side. Draco turned smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "Was there something you wanted, Granger?"   
  
"No," she said, a little too calmly. "Continue. I insist."  
  
Draco shrugged, and turned back to Harry. "As I was saying, I would rather hex myself than wait here for that insipid little know-it-all Mudblood."  
  
Hermione seemed to be breathing even heavier now, and Legolas noted that in one of her fists she clenched her wand. Sparks fairly flew from her eyes. "You cowardly -- you sniveling --" In her fury she couldn't seem to think of an insult, so she just raised her wand and pointed it at Draco's face. In retaliation, Draco coolly drew his own. For a moment, Legolas considered tripping Draco, or perhaps grabbing his wand. Then he saw that Hermione was opening her mouth to say a curse and he figured that getting in her way at this point would not be a wise decision.  
  
"God -- will you two stop already?"  
  
Harry's exasperated voice broke the tension, and with a last withering glance at Draco, Hermione dropped her wand to her side. Draco seemed a bit more hesitant, but dropped his with a scowl, but he obviously could not resist throwing in a last barb.  
  
"I would use the Densaugeo curse on her again, but it seems as if someone has already beaten me to the punch. By about one million times."   
  
A strange sort of growl came out of Hermione's throat, and Draco smirked in satisfaction.   
  
"Oh, please," Harry mumbled under his breath, but it appeared that only Legolas heard him. However, Draco turned away from Hermione with a shrug, and Hermione only gave him a glare. The conflict avoided, Harry adopted his smile again, though Legolas noted it seemed a bit more pasted on this time.   
  
"Have you brought someone with you, Hermione?"  
  
Legolas whirled around to see a young girl standing a few feet away, with curly black hair and a gap between her teeth, looking a mixture of scared and excited. When she saw everyone looking at her, she flashed them all a tentative smile. Legolas glanced back at Harry, staring at him in no small amount of surprise. "How did you --"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I heard her come up while Hermione was arguing with Draco," he said casually. "She wasn't there at first. I just didn't mention it til now." Still staring blankly out across the lake, and seeing none of it, Harry continued. "Why did you bring her, Hermione?"   
  
Hermione, who was obviously still in a bit of shock from Harry's pronouncement, took a moment to reply. "She said -- she had something important to tell you. She wouldn't tell me, she insisted that it be told to you only. And she says that she has to go with you to Middle-earth." Hermione gave the girl a suspicious look.   
  
"What?" Draco asked angrily, but Harry held up a hand to silence him.   
  
"Let her talk, Draco." Harry didn't take his eyes from the lake, but it was obvious that his attention was shifted. "What did you want?"  
  
The small girl fidgeted nervously. She took a deep breath, and when the words came out, they were colored with a very strong Irish accent and jumbled in her haste.   
  
"When I was seven, my mother Katherine disappeared. Everyone said she died, but no one said how. I was younger, so I believed it. Then I came here, the Headmaster asked if he could talk to me, and he told me about this place that he thinks my mother went. He called it Middle-earth, or something like that. I asked how he knew that she went there, and he said that he was from there too, and that he'd got word that he was to go there. But then the -- I'm sorry, I can't remember the word he used for it, but I remember it was a little sphere thing -- never showed up. And then he heard about my mum disappearing. And I want to go with you so I can find her. Please."  
  
This declaration was met with a stunned silence. Legolas was speechless. He remembered Katherine Thatcher -- a tall, slender woman about thirty years old, dark curly hair, serious hazel eyes. She'd never mentioned a daughter, but Legolas had remembered seeing a ring on her finger.   
  
"You're her...daughter?" Harry choked out, barely. For the first time, he turned around and faced the girl. For a moment Legolas wondered how he'd known where she was, then he realized that Harry had recognized the direction of her voice. He suppressed a smile. Harry was learning.  
  
The girl's eyes widened.  
  
"You're -- are you --"  
  
"Blind?" Harry asked, and offered a tiny smile. "It's a long story. I'd rather hear yours. What's your name?" There was a little bit of strain evident in his voice.   
  
"Fiona Thatcher," the girl offered nervously, obviously avoiding looking at Harry's eyes. "So...can I go?"  
  
Before Harry could answer, Draco took a step forward and trained his piercing gray stare on Fiona, who shrank back just a bit before looking at him. "How old are you, again?"   
  
"Twelve," she answered, but with a bit more confidence.  
  
"And why in the world do you think we should take a twelve-year-old girl, who should be studying here, to a very dangerous place? Do you think we'd have time to baby-sit you?"   
  
"Draco," Harry warned. "Remember that you are being allowed to come, as well. And not for nearly as good of a reason as Fiona will be."  
  
"Will be --?" Draco said in a strained, angry tone, before pressing his lips together. "Fine. I don't care." It was obvious from his clipped tone that he did not agree.  
  
"Well," Hermione said lightly. "I suppose this is goodbye again." She gave Harry a soft smile, realized he couldn't see it, and sighed. She stepped up to him and gave him a gentle hug, which he returned hesitantly. "I'm sorry that Ron didn't come to see you off. I'll expect a visit soon." She stepped back. When Legolas gave her a surprised look, she smiled. "I don't like long farewells, anyway. Goodbye, you guys. And good luck."  
  
She walked away.   
  
Fiona turned to arrange her bags, Draco seemed to be absorbed in staring at the grass under his feet. Legolas took advantage of their distraction and gently grasped Harry's shoulders, turning Harry to face him. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, lifting a hand and stroking Harry's cheek with his fingers. Harry smiled up at him, closing his eyes and turning his face into Legolas's hand. A strange lump rose in Legolas's throat.  
  
"I'm feeling fine," he said just as softly. "A little nervous, maybe."  
  
"You know that's not what I meant." His hand paused in its rhythmic caress.  
  
Harry sighed. "I know. But believe it or not, Legolas, I'm almost getting used to being blind. I won't say it's not horrible, because it is, but it's getting easier to hear things, feel things instead of see them."   
  
"That's not what Hermione told me yesterday," he said, and regretted it immediately. Harry stiffened.  
  
"You two talked about me?" he said indignantly. Legolas ran a soothing thumb over Harry's soft lower lip, which parted just a bit.   
  
"She told me that she had you walk all the way to the Slytherin dorm, and that you did not do so well. That's all, Harry, I promise." Harry relaxed a bit in his arms.  
  
"It's just strange that sometimes I can't even tell whether my eyes are open or shut. And I hate not knowing where I am, or who is around me. But I'm learning how to deal with it, Legolas." He opened his eyes and lifted one hand to gently trance the contours of Legolas's face. "Although it's hard not to be able to see you," he said softly.  
  
Legolas was about to reply when he was interrupted.  
  
"Oh, for God's sake, Potter, can you two please stop before I get physically ill?"  
  
Legolas glared over the top of Harry's head at the arrogant blonde who was smirking over at him, apparently pleased with his unerring ability to get under Legolas's skin. Legolas could think of no other person he'd ever met who had was as good at making an irritant of themselves as Draco.   
  
Harry laughed quietly. "Don't let him annoy you," he said. "You're going to have to get used to him. I suppose he can be -- abrasive -- when you first get to know him, but once you two start to get to know each other, it'll get better. I swear."  
  
"I do not want to get to know him," Legolas said calmly, then thought of something and smiled. "I cannot wait until Haldir meets him. He is not as patient as I am. I can imagine that he might want to skewer Draco as much as I."  
  
"You're such a pacifist," Harry said teasingly, and leaned up to place a kiss on Legolas's lips. The gentle kiss sent a wave of warmth all the way down to Legolas's feet. "I knew there was a reason I loved you."  
  
There was a not so subtle sigh from Draco's direction, and Harry pulled back reluctantly.   
  
"I suppose we should get a move on, at that." Suddenly all business, Harry reached into his pocket and drew out a shining green orb. "Everyone get around it and touch part of it."   
  
It was a strange feeling -- as the four of them clustered around the orb and touched it with a finger or two, the orb pulsed with a strange gentle coolness.   
  
"Alright, everyone, close your eyes and try to just think of the words Middle-earth. Close your eyes!"  
  
Legolas heard a startled cry that sounded faintly like Draco's, and with the sickly feeling that someone had put a hook in his stomach and dragged him backwards, the entire world blacked out.  
  
______________________  
  
The first thing Harry heard when he came back to consciousness was a groan, and then a voice that sounded mildly in pain. "You know, next time I wanted my head to explode I would have gone and gotten myself nice and drunk."  
  
He lay on his back, eyes closed, and tried to keep perfectly still. His head throbbed with every pulse of his heart, and it seemed as if a hammer was pounding against the back of his eyes. His memory seemed strangely fuzzy.  
  
"I don't remember it happening quite that way last time, Draco, my apologies."  
  
"Is Harry ever going to wake up?"  
  
There was a hand shaking his shoulder rudely. "Go 'way," Harry mumbled, lifting a hand and swatting at the air in front of him.   
  
A gentle hand caught his own and grasped it tightly. "Come on, Harry," Legolas said softly in his ear. "We have to get moving."  
  
With a moan, rubbing his temples, Harry sat up and opened his eyes, was greeted with a sullen blackness, and promptly fell into a panic. "Why can't I see?" he cried, grabbing onto the hand that was on his shoulder in fear.  
  
"Because you're blind, idiot," Draco said dryly.  
  
The memories all came back in a sudden rush, leaving Harry feeling slightly foolish. He offered a sheepish grin in the direction he'd heard Draco's voice from, and was rewarded with a slight chuckle.   
  
The wind was cool on his face, and there was soft grass underneath his fingers. He listened and, in the distance, heard the neighing of horses. "Are we near a city?"  
  
"Yes," Legolas said. Harry detected the slightest bit of surprise in the normally calm voice. "We have appeared in front of Minas Tirith, and it appears we have been noticed. I believe our escort is arriving even now."   
  
Harry heard the pounding of hooves even as Legolas spoke. A coil of nervousness writhed in his stomach. Whoever it was, and it was likely he'd met them, they would know that he hadn't been able to cure his blindness. He hoped it wasn't Gandalf --  
  
As soon as the thought of Gandalf entered his mind, invisible light exploded into being before his eyes, and the entire landscape of Gondor flashed before him, but it was different -- he saw as if he had a pair of green-tinted glasses on. Then the sight was gone and red-hot pain lanced through his entire body, sending him to his knees and leaving him trembling. A voice cut through the haze surrounding him.  
  
"Harry?" Fiona sounded scared and nervous.  
  
"Are you hurt? Are you all right?"   
  
Harry could barely get his mind in order enough to answer, but finally he was able to think enough to stutter out a tentative answer. "No -- I saw -- I could see..." He rubbed his eyes with shaking hands, trying to regain the brief vision that he had been graced with. It didn't return.  
  
"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, and Harry was glad for the calmness in his tone. It helped clear his head.   
  
"Nothing," Harry said, trying to convince himself as much as Legolas and the others. "I just haven't had enough sleep lately, is all. I swear."   
  
"If you say so," Legolas said, sounding doubtful. A warm hand enfolded Harry's own.   
  
"Well," Fiona asked, "who are those people, exactly?"  
  
"The two blonde elves are Haldir and his brother, Rumil. The dark-haired elf is Arwen, and Aragorn rides beside her."   
  
"Legolas, did any of them --" Fiona stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again. For the first time, her voice was not tentative, but instead was sharp and loud. "Did any of them know my mother?"  
  
"That is not for me to say," Legolas said, and would not answer any more of her questions. There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by the pounding of hooves growing gradually louder. Finally, Harry heard them slow and then stop. From somewhere to his left, Draco sighed.   
  
"Lovely. More elves. Exactly what I need," Draco muttered under his breath. But his voice sounded...odd.   
  
____________________  
  
Legolas gave Draco a sharp glance at those words, which were said very strangely -- Draco's voice was sounding a bit strangled. Then he followed Draco's gaze to the horses -- one horse and rider, in particular. He had to suppress a smile. Perhaps an elf really was what the blonde needed.   
  
Then a thought nagged in the back of his mind, that something wasn't quite right -- but before he could say a word, Aragorn was dismounting and walking up to Legolas and the others with a warm smile, Arwen on his arm. Haldir and Rumil were not far behind.   
  
"Legolas," Aragorn said, ignoring Legolas's outstretched hand in favor of a gentle hug. Arwen's eyes sparkled at him in amusement from over Aragorn's shoulder. As Aragorn pulled back, Legolas noticed Haldir giving Harry a warm greeting as well, although there was a worried look in his eyes.   
  
Legolas grasped Aragorn's shoulder and returned his smile. "It is truly good to see you again, my friend," he said softly, and gave a nod to Arwen as well, which she returned graciously. He saw Aragorn glance over at Harry.  
  
"Did you find a way to cure him?" Aragorn said quietly.   
  
"No," Legolas said. "Even the greatest wizard of his world could not cure his blindness. He grows -- stranger every day. I cannot explain it, but something about him changes. And I do not like it."   
  
"Who are the other two?"  
  
Legolas cast a glance over at Draco, only to see him staring at Haldir a bit like a poleaxed cow. "The both of them are wizards as well --" Aragorn cut him off suddenly.  
  
"Wizards!" he said, glaring at Legolas. "Have you lost your sense? Do you remember the last time a wizard came here?"  
  
Legolas smiled. "Peace, Aragorn. I have spoken with Gandalf. He says that his brothers and sisters in Valinor have resolved this problem, and that the stomach pains and indwellings will not happen again. They will be fine." He gave Harry another look. He seemed well enough, talking easily to Rumil. Draco was still staring at Haldir, though perhaps not as obviously, but Haldir was talking to him as if nothing was the matter. Legolas smiled. Haldir was one of the most deadly warriors he'd ever met, but he could be painfully oblivious at times.   
  
Aragorn noticed where he was looking. "Who are they?" he asked again. "Why have they come? They are, of course, welcome."  
  
"The boy is a friend of Harry's. I cannot figure out why he insisted on coming, but I suspect that he has heard about -- about what happened in Mordor." It was still not easy to speak about that. Even trying to say what had happened made his throat close up with guilt. Aragorn seemed to understand and nodded for him to go on. "He doesn't seem to want me to be alone with Harry. The girl...she is Katherine's daughter."  
  
Aragorn had the control not to gasp, but his eyes widened. "Katherine's daughter?" he repeated slowly, voice incredulous. "But why is she here? Surely you could not have heard already --" He broke off, shaking his head.  
  
"Heard what?" Legolas asked curiously. "Does it have something to do with why Gandalf is not here?"  
  
Aragorn smiled wryly. "I should have known that you would see straight through that, my friend," he said. "But let us not get into these matters right away. Come with me to Minas Tirith. There I have something that all of you should see."   
  
It was perhaps no surprise that Draco rode to Minas Tirith on Haldir's horse, his arms wrapped around the elf's waist tightly.  
  
________________________  
  
A/N: Woohoo! I can't express how fun it is to write Draco's character. And okay, okay, from the amount of feedback I got, I can tell you guys safely that the story will NOT be Draco/Hermione. Definately. I thought some of you guys were ready to virtually skewer me. But anyways, I really hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. And the next chapter -- expect ENORMOUS plot twists! Hooray! 


	4. Depth Perception

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Four: Depth Perception  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: Get ready for the plot twist! Sort of! ....right! Actually, there's more slashiness than plot twists. Erm, you'll have to get ready for those next chapter.  
  
I'm so glad you guys liked the bit of Haldir/Draco that I snuck into the last chapter -- it was sort of a test run to see if you guys would like it. And since you did, I suppose I'll have a bit of fun with it.  
  
Oh, and before I start rambling, I just wanted to say thanks, thanks, thanks to everyone who reviewed. 60 reviews! And I've only got out 3 chapters so far! I can't even express how ungodly cool that is. So thanks from the bottom of my slashy Draco-luvin' heart.  
  
And I'm very sorry this is so late. Got a weird headache eight days ago, made me bed-ridden, and worst of all we couldn't figure out if it was a migraine or sinus infection or what. got a cat scan, no tumor, but then the antibiotics kicked in, so i'm alright now. Yay!  
  
And, sorry, I wanted to make it more graphic, but there's this stinky rule on ff.net. *shrugs* talk about spoilin' a girl's fun. Oh well, I made it as steamy as I can under the PG-13 rating. And heck, was it a good time. *grins*  
  
Well -- that's it, actually, no more talkie. So sit back, relax, and enjoy chapter four: Depth Perception.  
  
_________________________  
  
"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them."  
  
-- Galileo Galilei  
  
_________________________  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
The look Haldir gave him over his shoulder was positively glacial. And beautiful. But mostly glacial.   
  
"I am not aware that an order such as 'wait here' was so difficult. Perhaps I was mistaken when I assumed you had at least a tenuous grasp on the Common Tongue."  
  
Draco bristled. "I understood your order, elf," he said, glancing to his right at the backs of Harry, Fiona, Rumil, and Aragorn as they walked away. Rumil's hand rested gently on Harry's forearm, guiding him. Legolas had gone to saddle the horses. "I don't quite understand why I can't go with them. I'm part of this, aren't I? I mean, I didn't come here to be stuck in some room while everyone else runs off."  
  
Finally Haldir turned to face Draco fully, cool and collected but with a bit of anger in his eyes. "Actually, wizard, I am not sure why you are here in the first place. Perhaps Harry felt he owed it to you to take you along with him. But why have you burdened him with yourself? Can you not see that they have much more important things to worry about than looking after you?"  
  
The anger and frustration of being left out that Draco had felt kindling for the last few minutes finally came to the forefront. "Looking after me? They brought a twelve-year-old girl and you think I'm the one who needs looking after!"  
  
Haldir merely looked at him calmly. In the face of continuing stoicism, Draco began to feel a bit the fool.  
  
"Fine. You want to know why I came. Well -- it's too hard to explain to someone like you, but somehow while I was back at Hogwarts, I learned that Legolas is Harry's biggest fear. And I have my suspicions about why exactly that is. So I came to keep an eye on them."  
  
"You think you know everything," Haldir murmured in a somewhat neutral tone but with something that looked a bit like amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Well, by all means, keep an eye on Legolas Greenleaf. But I do not know how pleased he will be. Go on, then," he said, and motioned Draco towards the swiftly retreating group.  
  
_________________________  
  
Legolas came out of the small nook in the wall where he'd been hiding during the conversation. Haldir gave him a slightly bewildered smile. "He wants to keep an eye on you."  
  
"I heard. What do you think of him, Haldir?"  
  
It was rather amusing to watch the faintest hint of red enter Haldir's face and to see the way Haldir's eyes shifted to watch Draco pause and examine a statue.  
  
"Well, to start, he is arrogant, irritating -- he seems to have no conscience, and he doesn't appear to care that he is putting a burden on the rest of the group, and -- oh --"  
  
Legolas looked over and saw Haldir watching Draco walk away, obviously transfixed by the smooth roll of hips, the arrogant grace, the way he radiated allure as naturally as a fire radiated heat.  
  
"He walks like that on purpose, does he not," Haldir said, and it was not really a question. He sounded mildly perplexed. But then again, Legolas realized that Haldir had probably never met anyone exactly like Draco Malfoy.  
  
  
  
Which may or may not have been a good thing.  
  
"Keep an eye on you," Haldir murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly with a bemused smile on his face and what may have been a chuckle. Legolas resisted the urge to pull out an arrow and chose to favor Haldir with an icy glare instead. Haldir raised his hands in front of him in surrender. "Not that I think he has any need to, of course. And -- look, here they come."  
  
Harry was marching down the hall towards them, a disgusted look on his face, with Rumil attached to his arm and trying to keep up. It wasn't readily apparent who was leading who. Draco stood in the middle of the hall with Fiona, alternating glares between Harry and Aragorn. Aragorn strode in the opposite direction, and it was obvious from the ramrod-stiff line of his back that the talk had not gone well for either of them.  
  
"Gandalf's gone," Harry said tightly when Legolas touched his wrist. Legolas blinked. That was unexpected. "And Aragorn won't tell me what news Gandalf had. He just said that if we wanted to find it out, Gandalf would have to tell us himself. I suppose it's just too bad for us that Gandalf had to clear up a matter in Mirkwood."  
  
Legolas sucked in a breath. "Mirkwood?" he said, trying to appear casual, but he could feel his heartbeat racing in his chest. Harry's lips quirked up in a wry grin that said he was in no way fooled.  
  
"Apparently your father was none too pleased at your disappearance. He started accusing Gondor merchants of kidnapping you for slave markets." Harry paused, frowning, and looked a bit displeased. "I didn't even know there were slave markets in Gondor."  
  
Legolas managed a laugh. "There aren't," he said. "My father doesn't come out of his forest enough to know anything of Gondor. But he dislikes men at the best of times, so he assumes the worst. Go on."  
  
"Your father was threatening to bring his elves out of Mirkwood to retrieve you, and Aragorn said the elves were ready to march when Gandalf left to speak with your father and straighten things out. Hopefully he succeeded. This was a few weeks ago. I suppose if the Gandalf failed, the elves would be here already."  
  
"Did he say when Gandalf would return?"   
  
Harry let out a deep breath and had the grace to look a bit guilty. "Well -- he did say that Gandalf should be back in a few days. Or less. And I suppose it isn't really Aragorn's fault. Perhaps -- I guess I shouldn't have yelled at him. Just, lately, I can't seem to keep my temper quite under control. I don't know what's the matter with me." He sighed. "I must just be uptight from this whole -- you know, eye thing." He motioned vaguely to his pale-green eyes. There was something strange in his expression, something fading that Legolas couldn't quite place his finger on.  
  
"Should you apologize?" Legolas asked carefully.   
  
"No," Harry snapped, and then a bit softer: "No, I don't think so." He offered no explanation, and Legolas asked for none. There was silence for a few moments.  
  
"Rumil and I must be leaving," Haldir said smoothly, motioning for his brother. "I will stay until Gandalf arrives, but after that, I am not sure how long I can stay. The sea is...calling me and, with the conflict in Middle-earth over, I see no reason to remain here." He inclined his head to Legolas and Harry, spared a slightly wistful, confused look for the approaching Draco, and strode off with Rumil in his wake.  
  
"Well, I see your interview with Aragorn did not go so well," Draco said, shooting a glance at Haldir's back. "But now what are you going to do? Wait around here for Gandalf? Or return to Hogwarts?" The last suggestion was said in a hopeful tone. But Harry was already shaking his head, frowning. Before he could speak, however, Fiona piped up from where she stood beside Draco.  
  
"We can't go yet," she said in a surprisingly firm tone. "Aragorn said that whatever Gandalf wanted to tell us has something to do with me. Even though he didn't say so, I bet it's my mom. There's no other reason that he'd even look at me."  
  
Legolas was a bit surprised despite himself. An observation rather astute for a such a small child.   
  
"I suppose you're right, Fiona," Harry said and offered a smile. "We can afford to wait a few days for Gandalf. But -- Draco, if you want to leave, I'm afraid it might be quite a while. You would have to obtain permission from the Valar, and to do that, you would need an elf guide to take you to Valinor. So. I'm afraid you're stuck with us for now."  
  
Draco mumbled something inaudible under his breath.   
  
Legolas spotted a young servant hovering over in the shadows behind them and motioned her over. "Take Fiona and Draco to their rooms," he told her, and she bobbed a quick curtsy, sending a questing look to Harry and then to Legolas.   
  
"Will you be needing your rooms now?" she asked breathily, a little wary of the blind wizard who she had just seen yelling at her King. Legolas glanced at Harry, who nodded.   
  
"We only need one room for the both of us," Harry told her, and she blinked in surprise. Legolas heard Draco snort in amusement from behind them. He ignored it.  
  
"If you'll follow me, then?" she said, unsure for a moment before she began walking down a hall to their right. Harry didn't even wait for Legolas to put a hand on his arm before he strode after her. Legolas had to walk fast to catch up to him; Harry wore a troubled expression on his face, eyebrows lowered and mouth pressed together in a thin line. Before Legolas could even say a word, Harry was already speaking.  
  
"Aragorn is hiding something from me," Harry said tightly as they followed the servant down the halls. Legolas knew better than to say anything; he kept his mouth shut and waited for Harry to go on. "I didn't come all the way back here to have secrets kept from me. I want to know what he's isn't saying." They paused a moment, as the maid showed Draco and Fiona their two rooms. She then took one look at Harry's thunderous visage, let out a tiny little squeak, and pointed out their rooms. She scurried away down the hall, casting furtive looks back at them. Legolas laid a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him into their room. It was large, with a dark blue rug and several arched windows, and Legolas was relieved to see a roaring fire in the fireplace along one of the walls. The suitcases with their clothing lay in a corner.  
  
The twisting light caused by the fire cast a strange, mysterious shadow on Harry's face, and Legolas stared at him, captured as surely as if under a net. Oblivious of Legolas's stare, Harry let out an irritated sigh.  
  
"I should go down to his room right now," Harry muttered. "I should --"  
  
Unable to help himself, Legolas stroked a finger down Harry's jaw to his lips, Harry's soft breath ghosting over Legolas's hand. Legolas, feeling a bit as though he'd been put under a spell, leaned down and pressed his lips gently to Harry's own.  
  
Harry opened his mouth with a bit of a moan, bringing his hands up to grab Legolas's shirt and pull him closer until their bodies were flush up against each other. Legolas broke the kiss, head spinning, shivering as pleasure danced its way up his spine. Harry let out a whimpering gasp, fingers tangling in Legolas's long hair and pulling him down for another kiss.   
  
"Oh, please --" Harry whispered desperately once they broke for air, pressing his body tighter to Legolas's own. Legolas slipped his hands under Harry's tunic, skimming his hands across the shivering, silky skin. Harry shuddered at his touch and latched onto the juncture of Legolas's neck and shoulder.  
  
They had to step back a moment to get Harry's tunic off, but as soon as it was gone, Legolas was pressed against Harry again, pushing him back until the back of Harry's knees hit the bed and he fell onto the soft sheets. Legolas climbed onto the bed and hovered above him, hesistating a moment as he gazed down at Harry's flushed, desperate face; he had caught his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep from making noise. Harry grasped the bottom of Legolas's tunic and pulled it up over his head, throwing it to the side and letting his hands roam over Legolas's chest. Legolas let out a strangled groan when Harry's thumb grazed his nipple. He barely caught a hint of a smile on Harry's face before Harry looped his arms around Legolas's back and pulled him down, bringing their hips into contact.  
  
He must have made a sound, because a moment later Harry pressed a finger against his lips. "Try not to make too much noise," Harry whispered, at the same time pressing his hips closer against Legolas's and letting out a tiny gasp. "Draco's in the room right next to us -- oh, do that again -- I mean, I don't want him to hear -- wait, stop it, I can't think -- oh, God!"   
  
"Do you want me to stop?" Legolas asked, smiling wickedly even though he knew Harry couldn't see it, and used the hand that wasn't occupied to carefully grasp the waist of Harry's trousers. Harry thrust into his grip and snarled.   
  
"If you stop now, I'll kill you," he managed to pant, and pulled Legolas's lips down to his own. The last coherent thought that Legolas had for quite a while was that he might have a bit of a problem staying quiet.  
  
_________________________  
  
Harry drifted back into consciousness slowly, feeling languid and satisfied. He was curled against Legolas's side with his head pillowed on Legolas's chest. He simply laid there for a moment, listening to Legolas's deep, steady breaths and feeling more content than he had in days.  
  
He wondered how long they had slept, and just as he was about to wake Legolas to ask, he heard their door bang open. With a gasp, he scrabbled for the sheets.  
  
"Harry, Gandalf is..." Draco's voice trailed off into what could only be described as a stunned silence. Harry felt his face grow hot. He pulled the sheets up to his waist and sat up. Beside him, Legolas stirred and sat up as well, placing a kiss on the nape of Harry's neck.   
  
"We have a visitor, Legolas," Harry said sharply. He could feel Legolas stiffen.  
  
"Draco," he said coolly. Draco ignored the elf entirely, speaking instead to Harry again. Harry resisted the urge to pull the sheets higher.  
  
"Gandalf has arrived, Potter" he told Harry in an icy voice. "You two...slept...for a long time. He arrived at dawn." Without another word, Harry heard Draco's footsteps turn and walk out of their room. He let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding in.  
  
Legolas's fingers trailed down his spine, drawing a shiver from him. "We should get dressed," he said unsteadily. Legolas let out a small, breathy laugh in his ear that would have been enough to weaken his knees if he'd been standing.  
  
"We should," the elf agreed, and after a moment he got up. Harry could hear him rummaging around in their sacks for clothing. Legolas's footsteps padded back over to the bed, and he pressed some clothes into Harry's arms.   
  
A moment later they were walking out of the room, Harry feeling a bit more composed than he had the night before. He wasn't quite sure why he had exploded like that, but all of a sudden, he had hated Aragorn so badly -- wanted to strangle him, curse him, anything. Even now, just thinking about the confrontation made his fingers twitch in a need to do violence.   
  
That made him almost pause right there. What had made him so angry? It wasn't that Aragorn had been hiding anything from him -- although that would have made him simmer, it shouldn't have provoked the feeling that it had last night.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry blinked, brought out of his thought. "What?" he asked irritably. He could feel Legolas's questioning gaze on his face.  
  
"We've arrived in the throne room."  
  
"Good," Harry said, putting his arm forward and touching solid wood. It took him a moment, but he found the handle of the door and pulled. "Perhaps now I can get some answers." He took a deep breath and walked forward, feeling his stomach twist with nervousness. Legolas walked along side him, squeezing his arm lightly when Harry needed to stop.   
  
"It is good to see you again, Gandalf," he said. In truth, he didn't even know if Gandalf was in the room yet or not. He just had to guess and hope.  
  
"It does me good to see you as well," Gandalf said warmly, and Harry turned his head to the left, in the direction of Gandalf's voice. "I see that you are becoming more used to your affliction, are you not?"  
  
"I want it gone." He said it in a sharper tone than he meant to. He tried to temper his voice when he spoke again. "I was told that you had something you could only tell me in person. Can you tell us now?" He assumed that Fiona and Draco were already in the room. Gandalf's next words proved him right.  
  
"Yes," Gandalf said, and sighed heavily. "But it has something to do with you, Fiona, as well. Draco, if you wish to come as well, you may. Follow me."   
  
Legolas steered him carefully after Gandalf, though in truth Harry could have followed Gandalf by himself, from the sound of the wizard's footsteps. He grinned to himself. Legolas's hand clasping his own in a tight grip was comforting, though.  
  
Abruptly they stopped, and Harry ran into someone's back before Legolas could stop him.  
  
"Watch it, Potter," Draco drawled, and Harry flushed. He was about to reply when Gandalf spoke.  
  
"I would have made you wait longer, but she has just woken for the second time, and I thought that both you and Harry should see her, Fiona." There was a sound of a doorway creaking, and then Harry heard Fiona gasp.  
  
"Mommy?" she whispered, tears in her voice. "Mommy -- it's you --but what's wrong with your eyes?"  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: FINALLY! Jeez! This chapter would just NOT be written! But oh well, I've got both angry!Harry, plot twists, and a bit of pointless smut? What in the world is better than that?  
  
And reviews are definately not unappreciated. ;) 


	5. Al Araaf

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Five: Al Araaf  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: See? I told you it would come out sooner!   
  
The title of this chapter is an Edgar Allen Poe poem, not the quote that I have below, though. If you haven't read it, read it. It's gorgeous. The quote I thought was neat, because it sort of can be interpreted in this story as several things. I won't tell you which one it refers to in my mind. You decide.   
  
Man, I'm just on a roll with the steamy stuff. First it was Harry demanding smut, and now it's Haldir and Draco. Honestly. Men. Jeez. Er, not that it wasn't extremely, ridiculously fun writing seductive!Draco and oblivious!Haldir. Mmmm.  
  
IMPORTANT. This chapter gets a tad graphic in the violence department. Well, not violence really. More like some gore. If you don't want to read it, don't worry, it's not really necessary for the story.   
  
Well, pull up a chair, sit a while, and enjoy chapter five of Black Eyes: Al Araaf.  
  
_________________________  
  
"A star was discovered by Tycho Brahe which   
  
appeared suddenly in the heavens -- attained,   
  
in a few days, a brilliancy surpassing that of   
  
Jupiter -- then as suddenly disappeared, and   
  
has never been seen since."  
  
-- Edgar Allen Poe  
  
_________________________  
  
"Impossible," Harry breathed. Legolas barely heard him over the sudden pounding of his heart that seemed to echo in his head. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the woman lying on the bed. "I thought -- Aragorn, you said she was dead --"  
  
Legolas had only talked to Katherine once, in Rivendell, a few days after she had been found. They had ran into each other on the way to a council. He remembered her as tall -- almost as tall as he was -- and serious to a fault, with long brown curly hair and somber hazel eyes. He had found it hard to like her; at the council, she argued with almost everything that Elrond had said, and her ideas were unfeeling and cold at best, but the thing he had liked least about her was that, at least while he'd been around, she had never shown any emotion of any kind. Her eyes bothered him sometimes, the way they never changed. Now staring down at someone he'd thought long dead, he felt a wave of pity.  
  
She was nothing like he'd remembered her. He found himself wanting to shield Fiona's eyes from her brutalized frame, but then felt a familiar prick of guilt when he realized that after Harry's brief visit to Mordor, he had looked almost as bad as she.  
  
Katherine had never appeared to have an inch of fat on her before, but now her tall frame was completely emaciated. Her clothes hung off of her, her cheekbones cast into sharp relief. Her hair hung in dirty, lank waves on her shoulders. There were long gouges covering her arms that looked faintly like they'd been made from claws. Legolas winced a bit when he remembered his own experience with an Orc's sharp fingernails. Fading bruises dotted her body.   
  
"Mommy?" Fiona said again, her voice trembling.   
  
Something about Katherine was not right. Considering the brutality that she had obviously endured, Legolas had expected her eyes to be dull and lifeless, but there was something strange, a milky color, about her eyes. Legolas looked at Harry, who was staring straight ahead with an expression of shock on his face, and realized what was wrong with Katherine's eyes. She was blind.   
  
That was about when Legolas realized that there were straps around down Katherine's legs and arms, holding her efficiently to the bed.   
  
"Please, Mommy, say something to me!" Legolas could hear the tears in Fiona's voice.  
  
Katherine came alive suddenly, struggling in her bonds and growling deep in her throat. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, but there was something in her expression that Legolas had never seen before. It was feral and frightening and not altogether sane.  
  
Gandalf walked over from where he'd been standing in the doorway and laid a hand on Fiona's shoulder. "She has been through a great deal of trauma," he said gently as Fiona stared in horrified distress at her mother. "In the few times she's been awake, she has alternated between what you see now and a semblance of sanity." He glanced at Katherine, who was arched up, snarling and almost bending double, in an effort to get free. "Aragorn, get the athelas."  
  
Aragorn nodded wordlessly and retrieved a small bowl on the dresser; approaching Katherine warily, he held the bowl, which Legolas assumed held crushed leaves, under her nose.  
  
She slumped so suddenly that Legolas saw Draco jump from beside him. Gandalf took his hand off Fiona's shoulder. Katherine lay still; Legolas couldn't tell if her chest moved with the intake of breath or not.  
  
"Is she --" Fiona started but then stopped, biting her lower lip, afraid to ask what they were all wondering.   
  
"Is she what?" Harry demanded. "What happened?" Legolas realized suddenly that Harry didn't know she was blind -- or insane. And he had no idea how to go around breaking the news to Harry that the only other wizard who went blind upon going to Middle-earth consequently ended up mad. Of course, she could have gone insane from the years -- years! -- of being trapped in Mordor, as an Orc plaything and who knew what else.   
  
"No, she is not dead," Gandalf said, though he looked troubled. "She is merely unconscious. I hoped that the athelas would have a different affect than making her sleep. It seems that someone else will have to tell you what happened to her."  
  
"It's about time," Draco groused quietly. Harry elbowed him in the ribs. But Gandalf made no move to speak.   
  
"I was so young then," Aragorn said quietly. Legolas glanced over at him, but Aragorn was staring at Katherine's face while he spoke. "I suppose it is my fault. I only had assumed her dead. How could anyone survive what had happened? We were on our way to Osgiliath -- the number of Orcs venturing outside the borders of Mordor were rapidly growing, and they wanted assistance and council. We brought Katherine along in the hopes that one of their healers could assist her where we could not. An impossible task, but we had no other choice. But one night, Orcs attacked our camp. It was only a few elves and I, and we were woefully unprepared. A few of us managed to escape. The rest were slaughtered, or so we thought. That is why, Harry, I told you that Katherine was dead."  
  
Gandalf picked up when Aragorn stopped. "From that point on we assumed Katherine had been killed. It was only a few weeks ago that we were proved wrong. In the cleansing of Mordor and Barad-dur, we found many prisoners, but all were dead, except for this woman. We found her chained and unconscious in room adjacent to what we assume was the throne room. She was blind, as you can see now."  
  
Legolas felt Harry stiffen at his side. "You mean to tell me that Katherine is blind, too?" he said in a hoarse voice. "I mean -- I heard Fiona say something about her eyes, but I didn't think --" He broke off, looking bewildered. Draco laid a hand on his shoulder and Harry leaned into the touch, leaving Legolas suddenly feeling, though he knew he had no reason to be, jealous. He hated feeling that way when he was sure -- at least, he hoped he was sure -- that there was nothing but friendly comfort in Draco's touch, and nothing but a need for comfort in Harry's reaction. It was one of those strange changes that Harry had somehow inflicted upon Legolas when Legolas had fallen in love with him, this irritating loss of judgment. He suppressed a completely out-of-character smile. The perks seemed to be worth his changes.  
  
Suddenly he realized that he'd missed the last part of what Harry had said. Gandalf was already replying.  
  
"We have not been able to find why Katherine went blind, and it is possible that it is completely unrelated with your own blindness. But you can see why that is very, very unlikely." Harry nodded, looking a bit pale, and Gandalf continued. "However, you both have something in common. You were both inhabited by powerful spirits. Since that is the only connection we could find, that's what we assume."  
  
Harry frowned. "But -- Gandalf, I don't think that's right. Why would that have an effect on my eyesight? And why wouldn't it have happened when the spirit was taking me over, and happened weeks afterward instead?" He crossed his arms over his chest. Gandalf chuckled.  
  
"I did not say my theory was flawless. But I cannot think of anything else. Can you?"  
  
Harry pursed his lips slightly in the way he did when he thought hard, and Legolas had the nearly uncontrollable urge to kiss him. "No," Harry said finally. Gandalf nodded. "But what can I do? I need to get rid of it. I don't want to -- I can't live like this."  
  
"You can, and you will," Gandalf said firmly. "You have to accept that there is no cure and that you will have to live like you are now for the rest of your life. If you want it to cripple you, ruin you, than that is not my concern. But you must think of how curling up and giving in will affect those who care for you." There was no need for Gandalf to say who he meant. Legolas nearly protested -- he did not want to be used to make Harry feel guilty -- but some part of his mind acknowledged the fact that he did not want Harry to curl up and die, and that perhaps this was exactly what Harry needed.  
  
"And you know exactly how I should live, Gandalf?" Harry said in a flare of anger, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He sneered, and it was frightening to see how natural it looked on his face. "What the hell do you know? Do you ever do anything useful? All you've done so far is give me shit and tell me to believe it. And now you want me to listen to you? I died because I listened to you!" His knuckles were turning white, and with a surge of alarm Legolas saw blood trickling down Harry's hands from where he had dug his fingernails into his palms. Draco warily removed his hand from Harry's shoulder. "I fucking hate you!"  
  
Gandalf stood calmly during Harry's outburst, and when it was finished, all he said was, "You will do as you see fit." With that, he swept out of the room, Aragorn, Fiona, and Draco following him. Draco cast a last worried look over his shoulder at Harry.  
  
As soon as Gandalf crossed the threshold of the door it was as if Harry had been a puppet on strings, and those strings had been abruptly cut. His shoulders slumped. Most of the anger drained from his face only to be replaced by a vague sort of confusion.  
  
"I just yelled at Gandalf," he said, looking like he did not believe it himself. "Why did I --" He broke off, shaking his head. Legolas realized that Harry did not know he was still in the room. A sign of how distressed Harry was.  
  
"Why did you?" Legolas asked carefully. Harry jumped, and his head swung in Legolas's direction.   
  
"I don't know," he murmured, looking troubled, but a trace of anger still colored his voice. "Just -- he was making me so mad, telling me how to live my life. Like I need his advice when he doesn't even know what's wrong with me. But I don't think I should have gotten that angry." He exhaled and looked guilty. "I need to apologize, don't I? I don't know why I said all that, and half of it probably wasn't true, either -- I know listening to him wasn't the reason that I ended up dead. That was my fault, wasn't it?"  
  
Legolas decided not to answer and took once of Harry's hands in his own, uncurling it from its tight fist to find five gouge marks in Harry's palm, bleeding sluggishly. He did the same with Harry's other hand, running his fingers gently over Harry's hand. Harry's lips quirked up in a brief smile. He grabbed hold of Legolas's wrist and brought Legolas's hand to his mouth. His breath caught in his throat as Harry slowly slid Legolas's index finger into his mouth. Harry's pale eyes glittered wickedly in the candlelight.  
  
"We cannot --" Legolas said, voice hoarse, sounding unconvinced even to himself. Harry made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded faintly like agreement even as he sucked another finger into his mouth. Legolas took a breath and tried to compose himself. "Harry. Stop, now." There. That sounded almost firm enough to be sincere.  
  
Grinning, Harry released his fingers, but not before giving an impudent nip to the end of one. "If you say so, Legolas," he said cheekily. His rage looked to be completely dissipated, to Legolas's relief. "I would feel sort of strange doing anything in front of someone's mother, after all."  
  
"Harry, about what Gandalf said --"  
  
Harry's lips tightened, but Legolas kept on, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist to pacify him.  
  
"I know it is not ideal, being as you are, but the last thing in the world I want is for you to give up. I want you to be happy, or as happy as you can be under the circumstances. There are other senses besides sight that you can use almost as well. I want to help you. So starting tomorrow, I will begin helping you get used to your blindness."  
  
Harry sighed against his chest, but nodded. Legolas let go of him reluctantly.  
  
"Come," he said, and took Harry's hand, careful of his injury. "I do not want someone to come looking for us."  
  
Suddenly he felt Harry's hand clench like a vice on his own, and Harry's eyes seemed to almost focus on his face. For a moment the milky white color of his eyes was gone, and the blinding green color of his irises shone in the flickering light of the candles. Just as quickly the pale sheen was back. Harry's face was white.  
  
"What was that?" Legolas demanded, his grip on Harry's hand as tight as Harry's had been only a few ago. For a moment Harry looked almost unsure.  
  
"I have a headache," he said a split second later, and when Legolas caught Harry's chin and tilted his head, watching the candlelight on Harry's pale eyes, he did not say a word.  
  
___________________________  
  
"If you say so," Legolas said but did not let go of Harry's jaw. Harry knew what he had been doing -- inspecting his eyes -- and Harry wondered how in God's name he was going to explain it away if his eyes had changed. He didn't even know what had happened himself, but suddenly he had been staring at Legolas's tunic, and when he'd tilted his head up, he'd seen Legolas staring down at him in confusion. It had happened once before, on the plains when they had first arrived, but Harry had been willing to dismiss it as imagination. He could not dismiss it twice. He hoped that Legolas couldn't feel the shaking in his limbs.  
  
He didn't have to see Legolas to know the expression on his face -- puzzlement, worry, love. It was as if, from that one brief glance, Legolas's image had been burned into his skull.   
  
Legolas let go of his chin and took his wrist in a firm grip instead. "You need to rest," Legolas said finally after a long moment of silence. There was something unidentifiable in his voice. It sounded a bit too much like hurt for Harry's liking.  
  
"We just got up," Harry said, trying to convey in his voice that yes, he was fine, he just had a headache. "I don't need any more sleep."  
  
When Legolas spoke again, he sounded amused. "But Harry, we did not do much sleeping last night, did we?" He sighed. "Is there any way that I can get you to go back to our rooms and get some rest?"   
  
"If you're there with me."  
  
It came out before he meant it to, but after he said it, he realized that an hour or so curled up with Legolas would probably do him a lot of good. Maybe it would deflate his temper -- God, he'd yelled at Gandalf! He couldn't seem to figure out why, but in those brief few moments, he had hated that wizard like he'd never hated anyone in his life.   
  
Legolas's voice broke through his thoughts.  
  
"Just sleeping, right?"  
  
Harry laughed at Legolas's guarded tone. "Yes, Legolas. I promise, just sleeping."  
  
Of course, truth be told, he had no intention of keeping to *that* particular promise.  
  
_________________________  
  
Draco soon found himself with absolutely nothing to do, and he began to think that coming on this little jaunt was not his best idea.  
  
In retrospect, it was probably one of his worst.  
  
He stared at the ceiling from where he lay on his back, the mattress beneath him surprisingly comfortable for what seemed a relatively uncivilized place. One thing he'd discovered was that during the day the castle seemed heated up, the stone walls acting effectively as an oven. So he was not only bored now but hot.   
  
"This was definitely not one of my best ideas," he muttered to himself and wiped a droplet of sweat from his forehead. He'd wanted to go outside, since outside there was a breeze and it wasn't so hot, but all those stares from the people of the city had drove him back to his room. He didn't know why they stared so -- Aragorn had given him a white tunic, brown leggings, and soft leather boots instead of his black shirt and jeans. He had to admit that it was decidedly cooler than what he had been wearing.  
  
Draco sighed and shifted slightly, trying to find a cooler spot on the sheets. God, he was baking. He thought suddenly about leaving his room and going to the basement, where it would probably be a lot cooler, but the heat drove him into such a lazy state that he couldn't seem to find it in himself to move.  
  
Maybe he should take off his shirt. Anything to get away from this oppressive heat.   
  
But what if someone walked in?  
  
"Oh, fuck it," he snarled finally, nearly ripping the seams off his shirt in his haste to get it off. He flung it to the side and flopped back down on the bed, feeling a little bit better, better enough at least to go to sleep and escape the heat that way.  
  
Sleep had almost engulfed him when the door of his room swung open with a bang. Draco didn't even open his eyes. If it was a servant, they could deal with it, and if it was Harry, than it was nothing that he hadn't seen before.  
  
"Oh -- I am sorry, I thought this was Rumil's room --"  
  
His eyes popped open at the sound of Haldir's voice.  
  
"Haven't you harassed me enough?" he snapped, sitting up and completely forgetting about his state of undress. Haldir's eyes flew up from where they'd been staring and made a noise in the back of his throat. It sounded very suspiciously like a tiny groan. Draco felt a small smirk threaten to show on his face and he had to look away in a pretense of picking something off the blanket so that it wouldn't show.  
  
Haldir already had himself under that cool control again by the time Draco looked back at him.   
  
"I apologize," the elf said icily. "I thought this room was my brother's. I will leave you in peace, since my presence so obviously irritates you."   
  
"No, it's not that," Draco said, yawning and making a show of reaching his arms above his head and stretching. "The heat's making me irritable. But anyways, I'm bored now. Come talk to me." He patted the bed next to him.  
  
Haldir stared at the spot Draco patted like it was a snarling Warg. "About what?" he said warily but moving towards the bed all the same. Draco gave him an encouraging smile -- he tried to make it a smile and not a smirk, but he'd been only doing one of them for so many years that he wasn't sure -- when Haldir finally sat down. The elf's back was ramrod straight and he stared straight ahead.   
  
"Oh, I don't care," Draco said, shrugging. "Tell me about this place you're going to be moving to in a few days. Tell me about Aragorn. Just talk."  
  
Haldir gave him a glance, but started talking anyways. "I don't know much about Valinor, since I have never been there myself. But I know the stories, and Harry told me a good deal about it as well. It is supposed to be the most beautiful place on earth, but it is impossible for anyone to reach unless they are elven, have an elven guide, or have been ordained to pass by the Valar themselves. There is only one road to get there, the Straight Road. Any man that tried to get there would circle the globe, but an elf on a ship would leave the Bent Lands and travel through the air as if on a mighty bridge invisible." He let out a sigh. "How I long for it."  
  
Draco, who up until this point had been mesmerized by Haldir's soothing voice, found himself suddenly and inexplicably saddened. "Is there any way back from Valinor?" he said in a hushed voice, not wanting to break the strange magic that had descended upon the room.  
  
"I do not know," Haldir said just as quietly. "But why would any elf, seeing the beauty of all the Valar and the perfection of Valinor, want to return to such an imperfect world as this?"  
  
And Draco found himself wanting to give Haldir a reason why he should return. Haldir turned and their eyes met, and something strange tingled its way down Draco's spine. Haldir appeared just as caught as he.  
  
"What else would you like to know?" Haldir said, breaking the spell, and Draco blinked as he was brought rudely back to the real world, where it was hot and sweat trickled down his back and there was a very stiff, very reluctant elf sitting next to him, and he still had a seduction to plan.  
  
"Tell me about where you used to live."   
  
Haldir sighed. "I was a guard in Lothlorien. It was a place more beautiful than the stars, and inhabited by a lady who was more radiant than the sun. It --"  
  
As Haldir continued, Draco watched as he because caught up in his memories, eyes staring at the wall and a small smile lurking about his lips. Finally, Draco could take it no longer. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Haldir's throat.  
  
"And Galadriel and Celeb -- what are you doing?" He sounded faintly startled but not repulsed. Draco smiled against Haldir's skin.   
  
"I am sucking on your neck," he said simply and proceeded to do just that. Haldir made an inarticulate noise of shock from above him and put his hands on Draco's shoulders, pushing him back. A pair of astonished green eyes stared down at him.   
  
"Why in the Valar did you --" He had to cut off suddenly because Draco, on an impulse, leaned forward and took Haldir's lower lip between his teeth, worrying it gently. Haldir made another one of those noises and Draco just had to kiss him.  
  
"Stop it," Haldir said after he finally broke away, sounding not at all breathless like Draco suspected he himself would sound the minute he tried to talk. "Why are you doing this?" Draco heard the tiniest bit of strain in his voice and arched an eyebrow.  
  
"Why not?" he asked smoothly and leaned in for another kiss. Haldir turned his head at the last minute and Draco kissed the smooth slope of his neck like that had been his intention the whole time.  
  
"I am serious, Draco. Stop this. Stop -- oh -- "  
  
Draco had bitten down lightly on the curve where Haldir's neck met his shoulder. He leaned up and succeeded finally in capturing Haldir's lips for another kiss. Slowly, he pushed his hand against Haldir's shoulder, making the elf sink down on his back on the bed. Draco felt the tiniest bit of response in the kiss and fought the urge to grin. He was finally getting somewhere.  
  
There was the sound of footsteps at the door and a muted gasp.  
  
"God damn it, is everyone going to barge in on me today?" he growled under his breath, breaking the kiss and turning to see who was in the door. Haldir gave a jerk from beneath him and the elf sat ups so fast that Draco nearly fell off the bed.  
  
"Rumil, this is not what it looks like, I swear it."   
  
Rumil's keen eyes took in Draco's state of undress and Haldir's flushed face and swollen bottom lip. "If you say so, brother," the elf said, gaze drifting to the bruise that was appearing on Haldir's neck. A tiny smile appeared on his face. "I was only wondering where you had gone off to. No need to leave yet, of course. I shall just go back to my room."  
  
"No," Haldir said. His voice was very nearly under control again. "No, I shall come with you. I meant to talk to you, anyways. I just came into the wrong room."  
  
"I see," Rumil said, laughter in his voice. Draco wondered where the hell Haldir had gotten his prudishness, since his brother seemed to be fine with it. But he didn't want to seduce Haldir's brother, either.  
  
Haldir left, casting one last icy glare over his shoulder. Draco returned it with a smoldering look of his own and winked. Haldir slammed the door with a bit more force than was necessary.  
  
"Damn elves," he said to himself, but even as he did, he grinned and started planning his next meeting with the elf, and how exactly he could worm his way under that cold exterior. It would be interesting. And it seemed as if he had finally found a way to occupy his time.  
  
_________________________  
  
"I finally got rid of them, Legolas."  
  
Harry came towards him with blood streaming down his face in rivers.   
  
"I finally got rid of them, Legolas."  
  
There was a relieved smile on Harry's face even as the blood poured down from his empty eye sockets and flowed into his mouth, staining his teeth a dark red.  
  
"I finally got rid of them, Legolas."  
  
He held out his hand for Legolas to see, and in his hands he held his two bloody eyes. The blood was making a pool around Harry's feet, but the horrible grin never slipped off his face. Harry turned away and spat out the blood that had been pooling in his mouth. It formed a puddle on the floor, and even as Legolas watched in horror, the blood shaped itself into a human form with Draco's face. Harry laughed.  
  
"I finally got rid of them, Legolas."  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: Review review! Be a do-gooder! Because I love your reviews. :) 


	6. Winter's Heart

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Six: Winter's Heart  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: Hooray! I freaked everyone out with the dream sequence at the end of the last chapter! And you know, that was exactly what I was aiming for, too. Heh.  
  
And yes, the chapter title and quote are both pulled from Robert Jordan. What can I say, I'm a hopeless, hopeless Jordanite.  
  
Alright. I think I should explain a few things, cause I'm even confusing myself. About the whole Katherine deal -- since Orcs attacked the camp and Aragorn didn't find Katherine's body, he assumed that she either died at the hands of the Orcs or had a pain attack while captured, and died that way instead. He didn't tell Harry about the Orc attack because as you could probably tell, he was a bit ashamed about not being able to save Katherine.   
  
And just another note -- because I guess I'm not good at explaining things -- when Harry was revived in Valinor, the Valar cleared up the whole Eonwe/indwelling business. So there was no spirit that indwelt Harry after he was revived. And obviously, no spirit inside Fiona/Draco/Harry now. *grins* Wow, am I confusing or what?  
  
Here's chapter six of Black Eyes: Winter's Heart.  
  
_________________________  
  
"And in the heart of winter shall winter's heart be born  
  
Amid the wailing of lamentations and the gnashing of teeth,  
  
For winter's heart shall ride a black horse,  
  
And the name of it is Death."  
  
-- A prophecy from Robert Jordan's "Wheel of Time" series  
  
_________________________  
  
  
  
It was almost unbearably hot, and Draco had been accosted by a maid the second he had stepped out of his room; the maid had been frantic in her attempts to pull a shirt onto him. In truth, he'd forgotten about his state of undress, but he wouldn't have minded walking around without one on. Especially if there had been a chance of him running into Haldir.   
  
But he was almost positive that Haldir was hiding in his room, and even if Haldir was not, Draco was sure that the elf would use all of his considerable skill to avoid him like the plague. He'd been wandering the castle for a good two hours and hadn't seen Haldir once. He'd seen Aragorn, walking down the hall with a trail of nobles trying to keep up, but Draco had seen Aragorn's thunderous expression and decided to forgo on asking him for Haldir's whereabouts.  
  
So now he was left with nothing to do but wander aimlessly around the castle. And he was almost positive that he had just made a complete circle.  
  
He was just about to go back to his own room when he heard a faint whisper come from the door he'd just passed. He stopped, ears perking in interest, when he realized who had just spoken.   
  
"Legolas?"  
  
Draco smirked, wondering if maybe some eavesdropping would lighten his boredom. He dared to step closer and press his ear to the door. Harry's voice was clearer now, and it had a sharp, worried tone to it.   
  
"Legolas, I know something is wrong. What is it? You got up so quick --"  
  
"It is nothing."  
  
Draco started from where he crouched, ear pressed against the wood, when he heard Legolas speak. Legolas did not sound angry or irritated or amused or any number of things that Draco had heard him be. He was scared, scared as anyone Draco had ever heard before. And considering that in his lesser days, he had been present and even helped his father with information extraction -- torture, he thought with a wry smirk -- considering that, the terror he heard in Legolas's voice was surprising, to say the least.  
  
It took just a moment to realize that there were footsteps heading for the door.  
  
He looked around frantically and spotted a rather convenient, shadowed nook that probably used to contain a statue. He had only just darted into it when the door opened and Legolas appeared; his blonde hair was a wild mass framing his face and his blue eyes looked a little dangerous. Peering into the doorway behind him, Draco saw Harry sitting up in bed, a sheet pulled to his waist. He was staring in the direction of the door and looking lost.  
  
Legolas glanced down the hall and took off running. His boots made no sound, but once Draco had waited a good amount of time, he crept cautiously out of the nook and towards the open doorway.  
  
Harry was still staring blankly at the door with the same expression, but when he heard Draco's boots, his eyebrows lowered. "Who is it?" he asked sharply. He didn't sound in the mood for company.   
  
He couldn't help himself; Draco's eyes drifted downwards to take in Harry's bare chest before he replied. "It's just me. Draco. Where's Legolas?"  
  
Harry sighed and his head drooped, and he shifted a little, making room for Draco to sit next to him on the bed. "I don't know. It was -- it was really strange. We were asleep, but all of a sudden I felt him sort of jerk beside me. He never moves in his sleep, ever. Then he sat up -- he was breathing really fast -- but he wouldn't answer me when I asked what was wrong. And he just left." He got that sad, lost look again but visibly shook it off. "Grab me my pants, will you? They're on the floor. I think they've got my wand in the pocket."  
  
Draco felt the familiar pang of jealousy deep in his chest even as he turned around to give Harry some privacy as he dressed. "I saw him running down the hall," he said reluctantly. "If you want, I can take you to go look for him." In fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was willing to do nearly anything to get that look off of Harry's face.  
  
"No, I won't make you wander around with me," Harry said, lips curving into a small smile. "He'll come back eventually, and I'll dig it out of him then." Draco very nearly heaved a sigh of relief. A few moments of silence passed.  
  
"What do you --"  
  
"So, I heard --"  
  
"You go first," Draco said, laughing. "What is it?"  
  
Harry smiled again. "Rumil told me that you and Haldir seem to be spending a lot of time together lately."  
  
For a second Draco couldn't do anything but stare at Harry in shock. "He did?" he managed after a moment. "I guess we have -- I mean, what did he say, exactly?"  
  
Harry's eyes twinkled. "Don't worry, Draco, I know about all your old tricks," he said, smirking. "Don't you remember how Blaise described you to the entire Hall when you two got in a fight? Sarcasm, manipulation, and sexuality at its best. I never could figure out if he meant that as an insult or not."  
  
Draco grinned before he remembered Harry couldn't see it. Harry went on in a more serious tone.  
  
"But try not to hurt him, Draco. And try to remember that he is leaving in a few days. So, what did you two talk about?"  
  
The subject change was so quick that Draco gaped for a moment before he recovered. Harry could be remarkably strange at times. "Well, it took him a bit to open up. But once I got him a bit more loosened -- a bit, mind, that elf is one of the most uptight creatures I have ever talked to -- he started talking about the most fascinating things. Like where's he's moving to. Valinor. Did you know --"  
  
But Harry had suddenly gotten the strangest look on his face that Draco stopped. It looked -- hungry and feral at the same time. And confused, for a moment, but that disappeared in a heartbeat.  
  
"What did he say?" Harry said in a hushed voice that did nothing to conceal the urgent tones within it. "What did he say about Valinor? I have to know. Tell me."  
  
Draco put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Harry, what's wrong with you?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry said, and let out a strange little laugh. "Just tell me what Haldir said. I'm curious." He certainly didn't sound curious; he sounded mad, and Draco told him so.   
  
He wasn't prepared for the fist that sailed towards his face and connected solidly with his jaw, sending him flying back. He heard a crack as his head connected with the wooden headboard at the front of the bed. He stared at Harry in shock.  
  
"Tell me," Harry said, and he sounded almost normal, but the look in his eyes was not right. His irises were almost completely green, and his eyes locked onto Draco's own with a frightening precision that someone blind should not have.  
  
"Okay," he said shakily, managing to sit up through the ringing in his skull. He reached a hand around and felt a lump on his head. "Just -- just give me a moment to think." He scrabbled for a memory of what Haldir had told him, anything to get that murderous, cold look off Harry's face. For a second the wild thought flashed through his mind that some spirit was inside Harry, like Harry had told him happened to Legolas, but Draco realized that probably was not possible. Harry had said that he had had the distinct feeling that Legolas was not himself -- that Legolas had merely been a shell for something else -- but Draco had no such feeling. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry had just clipped his jaw and probably had no compunctions about doing it again.  
  
The frantic thought skittered across his mind that Katherine was insane and blind, and that Harry was showing signs that he was well on the path to being insane as well.   
  
Suddenly Harry smiled at him, and it would have been warm if his eyes had lost their cold glow. "Take your time," he said, but the tone of his voice was altogether different -- his accent was altered slightly, his tone regal, as if he were sitting on a throne.   
  
Draco cautiously began. "He just talked about how beautiful it was, and how only elves can go there. He talked a great deal about its beauty. And I swear that's all of it."   
  
"Please don't lie to me, Draco," Harry said, smiling all the while. He sounded totally normal, now, and that made what was happening all the worse. He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the corner of Draco's lips. "I hate it when people lie to me. Please, I'm just curious. That's all."  
  
Draco exhaled and began again. He'd been in worse situations than this, had more dangerous people than Harry angry with him. "Well. He said that the only way to get there was if you are an elf or have an elf for a guide, or I think if the Valar let you. He said there is only one way to reach Valinor, but I can't remember what it's called." That was the truth, but he still looked at Harry to see if it was accepted. Harry nodded sharply, impatiently, those keen eyes still trained on his own. "He said that any man who tried to get to Valinor would just circle the earth, but an elf would travel through the air on an invisible bridge. That's all."  
  
"I see." The smile left Harry's face, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell off the bed.  
  
"Oh, my God -- Harry!"  
  
Draco leaned over the side of the bed. Harry was laying on the floor, limbs splayed out, eyes closed. He appeared unconscious. Climbing off the bed, Draco shook Harry's shoulders for all he was worth, but Harry didn't stir. Draco felt panic set in. "If you die, Legolas is going to kill me," he whispered, and it just so happened that at that moment, as Draco reached his hand for Harry's throat to feel for a pulse, that Legolas walked in.  
  
They stared at each other for a few moments, Draco's hand resting on the slim column of Harry's neck. He could feel Harry's pulse fluttering beneath his palm; it was racing as if he had just run a mile.   
  
"What have you done?" Legolas whispered, never taking his icy blue gaze off of Draco's own. "You hate me so much that you would kill him to hurt me?"  
  
Draco felt his eyes widen. "No, that's not --"  
  
Legolas knelt by Harry's side, his hand going to push Harry's hair out of his forehead. A finger traced the outline of Harry's lips. "What is it, then, Draco?" His voice was dangerously soft. A knife had appeared in his other hand, and the way he twirled it between his fingers spoke of a willingness to use it. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas cut him off sharply. "I saw you choking him. I need no explanation." There was a steely glint in his eyes. Draco could imagine that was a fair imitation of the look Legolas had in battle. And as the hilt of Legolas's knife slammed against Draco's temple, he was abruptly dropped into unconsciousness, the image of icy green eyes following him even there.  
  
_________________________  
  
"Harry," Legolas said softly, shaking Harry's shoulders and pointedly ignoring Draco's slumped over form. He felt dizzy, like all the blood had abruptly rushed to his head the minute he'd walked into the room and seen Draco's hand at Harry's throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so frightened, and that in and of itself might have been the most frightening thing of all.  
  
He turned away from Harry's unconscious body for a moment to get his wits back. No good to Harry as he was now, panicked and worried and completely not under control. But he couldn't seem to get himself together. Seeing Harry unconscious struck a bit too close to the eerie dream he had had earlier. Seeing Draco, however, had been even worse. Had his dream had actual significance? Draco had been in that dream.   
  
"How come I'm on the floor, Legolas?" Harry asked from behind him, sounding faintly bemused. "And what did you just say?"  
  
Legolas whipped around. Harry was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. It was with a rush of relief that Legolas noticed he still had his eyes.   
  
Then what Harry had said hit him.   
  
"You do not remember, Harry?" he asked cautiously, sitting himself next to Harry and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Harry shrugged.   
  
"I just remember falling asleep and waking up on the floor." He rubbed his head once more and grinned wryly. "Obviously I fell off, because I have a bump on my head the size of Caradhras. What was that you said, when I woke up? I couldn't understand it."  
  
And it was then that Legolas realized what he'd been muttering, over and over. Saes, melamin. Please, my love.  
  
He pressed a kiss to Harry's temple. "It does not matter now," he said absently. He rather hoped that he hadn't killed Draco for no good reason. At least, he assumed Draco was dead, because he wasn't quite sure how hard he had swung the handle of his knife into Draco's temple. Panic and anger had powered the blow.   
  
"Wait!" Harry said abruptly. "I remember something, at least. I think Draco came in here -- I can't remember when -- and we talked about something." He frowned. "It's -- fuzzy. We talked about Haldir and Valinor. But I can't seem to remember anything after that." He sighed softly and turned his face into Legolas's chest. "Well, my Potions professor always did say I had the memory of an dead Hufflepuff. Forget about it, Legolas. I can almost hear you worrying."  
  
He was not about to forget anything, but Legolas agreed anyway. There was a moment of silence before Harry spoke again.  
  
"Do you know anything about this -- this Valinor place? I can't remember much of what Draco told me."  
  
Legolas smiled. Perhaps Harry did have a horrible memory, after all. "Well, you have been there, Harry, remember? After you -- well, after you were brought to life. That was Valinor." He didn't like bringing up that subject. But instead of going quiet like usual, Harry laughed.  
  
"So that's Valinor, and why I can't remember the trip there. Or the trip back." His voice sounded suddenly urgent. "Do you -- do you think I could go there? If I wanted to?" He leaned back, arms going around his knees. His eyes, though blank and staring off into space, seemed surprisingly focused. Legolas blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by Harry's usual drifting gaze.  
  
"I suppose," Legolas replied slowly. "Perhaps if you had an elf along with you. You've already been to Valinor once, so I expect that you would be able to go again. But not without great need. Need is the path to Valinor. And none with malice in their hearts would ever make it to the city of the Valar." He frowned, looking at Harry's furrowed brows and look of concentration. "Why do you ask this so suddenly?"  
  
"Could you take me there?" Harry asked, and Legolas was aware of a faint trembling that overtook Harry's body when he said those words. "Please, Legolas?" He started to shake violently like a leaf in the wind.   
  
"Harry!" Uneasiness at Harry's strange behavior changed into full-blown panic. "Harry, what are you talking about? Why do you want to go to Valinor? Harry!"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to speak and the door flew open. Fiona stood in the open doorway, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"My mom is dead!" she cried, and despite the seriousness of what she had said, Legolas could have hugged her -- the strange, alien look was gone from Harry's face, to be replaced by a blend of anxiety and pity.  
  
"Oh, Fiona," Harry said quietly and opened his arms. She ran over to him and buried herself against his chest, sobbing into his shirt. He enfolded an arm around her shoulders and stroked her hair gently with his other hand, whispering soft, soothing nonsense into her ear.   
  
After a few minutes her shoulders stopped shaking, her sobs quieted into soft little sniffles. She lifted her face from Harry's chest and looked into his blank, unseeing eyes as if he could look back at her. Harry's shirt was damp with tears.   
  
"When did it happen?" Harry asked, just as quietly as he had before. It was a voice that Legolas had used himself, before, to calm a wild horse. It seemed to be having the same effect on Fiona.  
  
"A few hours ago," she said, sniffling. "I went in to talk to her, and she was just -- lying there, really still. Aragorn doesn't know why she died." She bit her lips, obviously trying to get ahold of herself, and Legolas was reminded suddenly that no matter how mature she acted -- or tried to act -- she was still a little girl who was in serious need of compassion.   
  
Harry went deathly still, his hand in Fiona's hair stopping its rhythmic stroking. "She has been talking?" he said softly. His voice trembled slightly, but Legolas was relieved that he didn't sound quite as -- strange as he had earlier. He just sounded nervous.  
  
Fiona closed her eyes and leaned back against Harry. "Just once. I went to see her right after she'd passed out, but she was awake. We talked for a while." She smiled tremulously through her tears. "We sorta had a lot to catch up on."  
  
Harry's face was pale. He had to clear his throat before he continued. "Did she -- did she say anything about the blindness? Or how she got it?" Legolas suspected that it had taken a great deal of control to make those words so calm.  
  
Fiona's head drooped. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I -- I didn't ask. I should have. It's just that I haven't seen her in so long and I just forgot. I'm really sorry." She sounded a bit shaky and on the verge of tears again, and Legolas saw Harry's arm tighten around her shoulders.  
  
"It's okay," he said.   
  
"I want to go home."   
  
Harry didn't look surprised. "Go talk to Gandalf," he said, and squeezed her shoulders in a gentle hug. "I'm glad you came."  
  
Her grin was shaky, but her returning hug and whispered "thank you" sounded relatively happy. Once she was gone, Harry released a trembling sigh.  
  
"She's dead, Legolas," he said, despair on his face. He ran a hand through his hair. "And I still don't know how to get rid of this." He motioned to his eyes. "I can't live with it. I don't care what Gandalf says."   
  
"Pitying yourself will not help either," Legolas snapped before he could help it, and Harry's eyes grew round with indignation.   
  
"Excuse me," Harry started angrily, but he stopped suddenly and shook his head. "I just --" He cut off, pressing a hand to his temple and shaking his head again as if to clear it of something. "What were we talking about before Fiona came in?" he asked, sounding a bit startled. "I can't seem to remember it. Any of it."  
  
There was a danger in Harry's mind wandering down that path again. "It was nothing," he said, and chose the most obvious path to divert Harry. He leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss. It worked wonderfully; Harry closed his eyes and brought a hand to the back of Legolas's neck, bringing him closer. Legolas pulled away and skirted carefully around Harry's mouth, kissing the side of his neck and lingering there, feeling the gentle beat of a pulse beneath his lips.  
  
"Oh, will you two stop it already? God, I feel like I just drank fifteen pints of spiked butterbeer."  
  
Draco was pushing himself off of the floor, rubbing his temple in nearly the exact same way Harry had rubbed his. He looked shaky, and Legolas suspected that he would have a bit of trouble walking for a while. Not that he regretted anything.  
  
"Are you still here?" Harry asked, swinging his head in the direction of Draco's voice. "I thought you had left already."  
  
Save for one wary look, Draco largely ignored Harry in favor of glaring at Legolas. "Thanks for letting me try to explain. You're goddamn lucky you didn't kill me."  
  
"That is what I was trying for," Legolas said coldly, returning Draco's glare. He'd been stared down by harder, more dangerous people than an angry teenage wizard in his lifetime.  
  
"Hold on just a second," Harry said, and Legolas remembered suddenly that Harry had no idea of what had happened. "Draco, are you saying that Legolas tried to kill you?"  
  
"He swung that knife handle into my head hard enough," Draco said dryly. "He thought I was strangling you, I guess. And he didn't exactly bother to ask questions." He rubbed his head and winced.  
  
"What exactly am I not remembering?" Harry asked slowly. "Why were you trying to strangle me, again?"  
  
Draco went completely still, and Legolas saw a faint shaking start in his hands, traveling down his sides and up his arms. "We -- we were talking. You just sort of passed out and fell off the bed, so I was trying to get a pulse when your elf decided that I was trying to kill you, and rammed his knife into my head." Legolas gave him a sharp gaze. He sounded like he was hiding something.   
  
Harry obviously felt the same, because his eyes narrowed dangerously. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked, sounding both annoyed and hurt.   
  
"Nothing."   
  
This time, it sounded as if Draco had his voice back under control, but Legolas caught a tiny fluttering in his hands, resting at his sides, and the wounded look in his eyes when he'd glance at Harry. Something had happened -- and Harry didn't seem to remember.  
  
"Draco," he said carefully, "Aragorn might have some spare athelas if I struck you too forcefully."  
  
Draco gave him a look of such gratitude and relief before leaving that Legolas was momentarily stunned. He got to his feet, hands smoothing over his tunic nervously.  
  
"Yes," he breathed. "You're lucky I didn't have my wand with me." But his voice was still a bit shaky, and the sting was taken out of his words by the look of -- Legolas hesitated to call it adoration, but at the least, respect -- that Draco shot him. Draco took a few steps back, stumbled a bit, eyes darting back to Harry for a moment. He turned around and walked out of the room, and by the time he had reached the edge of Legolas's hearing, he had started running.  
  
Harry was still sitting on the floor, staring ahead blankly with a strange, almost contemptuous twist to his mouth. "He was certainly in a hurry," he said wryly, and Legolas blinked -- sometimes he forgot how good Harry's hearing had become.   
  
"So," he said, watching Harry's expressions warily for a sign of the strange, cold mask he had been wearing earlier.   
  
Harry gave himself a tiny shake and smiled. "So. You still will not take me to Valinor?"  
  
Legolas exhaled. He had been hoping that Harry would not remember their earlier conversation. "I am truly sorry, Harry. But unless you can tell me your reason for wishing to go there, than I cannot. It is forbidden."  
  
To his relief, Harry laughed and beckoned him closer. "I understand." Harry brought his lips up to Legolas's own. "I did so wish to see those Valar again," he murmured, lips moving gently against Legolas's mouth, and Legolas was so absorbed in the feeling of Harry's smooth skin that he never saw Harry draw his wand from his pocket.  
  
"Imperio," Harry whispered, a rapturous smile on his face, and the world around Legolas faded to a strange, smoky white.  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: Nothing is more fun to write than a crazy Harry. And sorry this took so darn long to get out, but RL has finally caught up to me. I started school on Wednesday, and with all the essays/stories/math junk combined with kickboxing, the only time I found to write was about an hour after school. So, apologies to you all, and I hope that the next chapter isn't such an intense pain in the ass to write as this one turned out to be. 


	7. Eidolon

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Seven: Eidolon  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: -- Had a revelation. I realized that this is gonna be probably much shorter that Shadow of a Doubt. I tried to figure out why, and then I realized that the first thirteen or so chapters of Shadow a Doubt are abysmally short, and the entire story could have been done in 15 chapters, if I had been more intelligent. But alas. So Black Eyes probably won't be shorter, persay, but less chapters with more content.   
  
-- Just a mid story checkup. I need to know what you guys are thinking -- I'm getting a bit nervous about this story, simply because I'm scared that it won't live up to the first one. So, if you could, just leave me a review saying whether you liked it/improvements/whatever. I just need to know what's on everyone's mind, because I'm getting supremely paranoid. If you're like me (I have a nasty habit of never leaving reviews), then do it just this once. :) And I'll never bug you about it again.  
  
-- One last note -- an Eidolon is an unsubstansial figure or phantom. Way too cool. And yes, it's Poe again. So I'm in love with the man. There is a huge hint in the poem/title for this chapter. C'mon, get those brain's a-workin! It's a puzzle!   
  
-- ...aaand the rating is officially upped to an R. *shrugs apologetically* I can't help myself. Blame Haldir and Draco. Who won't be getting action for a while, if I have anything to say about it. Which I probably don't.  
  
_________________________  
  
"By a route obscure and lonely,  
  
Haunted by ill angels only,  
  
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT  
  
On a black throne reigns upright,  
  
I have reached these lands but newly  
  
From an ultimate dim Thule —  
  
From a wild weird clime, that lieth, sublime,  
  
Out of SPACE — out of TIME."  
  
-- E. Allen Poe, "Dreamland"  
  
_________________________  
  
Only when Draco was sure that Harry was not following after him did he dare to stop and press a shaking hand to his jaw. It was tender to the touch. One of his molars wiggled when he touched his tongue carefully to it.  
  
He turned his head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood from a split lip, noticing absently as he wiped his mouth that he couldn't seem to get his hands to be still.  
  
God -- he couldn't even begin to think of what had just happened. He wanted to be angry so badly, wanted to turn around right there and run back to that room and demand to know what the hell had just happened. But even thinking about it made his knees want to give.   
  
"I'm such a fucking girl," he said to no one in particular, wincing when the bruise on his jaw started to throb. "I should go see Harry. I should ask him what the hell happened. Knock him out and see how he likes it."  
  
But even as the echo of his words came back to him, he knew he'd never do it, because even thinking about hurting Harry brought up memories from the fight they'd had after Dean had been killed. Memories of Harry lying on his back, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, betrayal and rage in his eyes as he raised his wand with an Unforgivable on his lips. The memories got a little blurry after that; the amount of power Harry'd put behind that Cruciatus spell had knocked him unconscious. He'd woken to find that while he'd been out, Harry had gone a bit crazy and tried to carve the Dark Mark out of his arm.  
  
He shivered. Maybe Harry had never been entirely sane to begin with.   
  
The rapid clap of shoes on the stone brought him out of his memories and into a greater kind of panic. Harry couldn't have found him already. He'd run for a good ten minutes, down all the way to the bottom floor. He pressed himself harder against the wall, feeling the cool of the stone seeping into his skin and wishing somehow that he could find a way to do the same. He shut his eyes.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Haldir," he breathed, surprised to hear that the tremors had almost left his voice. And was equally surprised when he launched himself off the wall and onto Haldir, wrapping his arms around Haldir's middle and pressing his cheek against Haldir's shoulder.  
  
"Draco?" Haldir's hands were on Draco's shoulders, trying to push him back, managing to sound a mix of slightly annoyed and slightly confused. "What are you doing?" he repeated. Draco noticed that his gaze stayed firmly fixed on the wall behind him.  
  
Draco opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly Haldir looked down at him and frowned, and Draco's ability to speak was suddenly stolen by the clear blue of Haldir's eyes.  
  
"There is blood on your lip," Haldir said softly, bringing a hand up and gently wiping the blood off Draco's mouth. "Why?" Haldir's fingers stayed, gently tracing his lips even after Draco was sure the blood was gone.  
  
"I don't know." Hs voice was husky, and he had to clear it before he went on. "Harry got -- angry with me. We were -- I don't know. Talking about Valinor. I guess I wasn't telling him what he wanted to hear." An involuntary shiver went down his spine when a pair of icy green eyes seemed superimposed over Haldir's own gray ones. He pressed his face back into Haldir's shoulder and shuddered.  
  
Haldir drew a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice held relief. "Let's see if we cannot get these questions answered now. Hello, Harry."  
  
Draco whirled around just in time to see Harry and Legolas striding up, Harry smiling and resting one hand on Legolas's arm. He looked...normal. "Hello, Haldir. I don't suppose you've happened to see Draco anywhere?" He sounded genuinely worried, a little crease in between his eyebrows as he frowned.. Haldir gave Draco a look.  
  
"He is right here, Harry. He seems to have some misconception that you two had a fight. What happened?"  
  
Harry's head drooped. "I'm sorry," he said in a very small voice. "I don't know what was the matter with me. I guess I'm just stressed out, with Katherine's death and all. I'm sorry, Draco." He sounded appropriately guilty, but somehow his eyes were a bit too focused on Draco and a bit too green.   
  
"It's okay," Draco said quietly, eyes fixed on Harry's face for any trace of that strange expression that had been there before. It could have been paranoia, but Draco was sure that a shadow of menace lurked somewhere under that guilty exterior.   
  
He shifted his gaze to Legolas. Legolas was staring straight ahead, his eyes strangely blank, gaze drifting a bit. He looked, for lack of a better term, completely knocked up.  
  
"We must be going," he said, that eerily empty gaze transferring to Haldir. His voice sounded strangely slurred, like he had trouble getting out the words. "We are going to give Arod some exercise."  
  
Harry laughed and patted Legolas's arm, but there was something sharp about his expression. "We want to get back before dark," he said apologetically. "I'm really afraid he's right. We must be leaving."  
  
Without another word they strode off, arm in arm, Harry leaning over to whisper something in Legolas's ear. Draco heard Legolas chuckle slightly before they turned a corner.  
  
Draco stared after them in shock, tiny shivers still running up his spine.   
  
"He seemed fine to me," Haldir said dryly, looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye. "Are you sure --"  
  
"Yes, I'm goddamn sure," Draco snapped, not taking his eyes off the corner where they'd turned. "You didn't notice anything strange about Legolas?"  
  
Haldir frowned. "I have never seen him so unfocused," he said slowly. "In all my life, never have I met an elf so constantly alert as Legolas, as if he is always expecting attack. Harry changed him, but that was one thing that did not change." Haldir's lips thinned. "Something is wrong."  
  
_________________________  
  
The white fog in his vision was swirling fit to make him sick.   
  
"Laugh, Legolas," hissed a voice in his ear. "I just said something amusing. Laugh."  
  
Something compelled him to laugh, so he did, a false doll's smile curving up his lips. As soon as he laughed, the strange headache went almost completely away.  
  
"Very good," the voice purred. "Very, very good. I might not have to kill you after all. Would you like that?"  
  
"Yes," he said, still smiling emptily, trying to think through the fog miring his thoughts. Why had he answered? "Harry?" he whispered and shook his head.  
  
"Stop thinking," Harry snapped, grip curling vice-like on Legolas's forearm. "Do as I say."  
  
Legolas's thoughts sunk back into the pleasantness of white oblivion, fog obscuring every thought but complete submission. There was a low laugh in his ear.  
  
"I was told that this spell can only be resisted by those with a strong will. I always thought you had a stronger will than I, but I suppose I was wrong, wasn't I? Get on the horse, Legolas."  
  
Why should I? He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Harry hissed in displeasure.  
  
"Because I fucking told you to, that's why. Do it."  
  
There was a strange pressure on Legolas's temples, throbbing to the beat of his heart and, strangely enough, throbbing to those two words that Harry had said, repeating themselves over and over in his head. Do it. Do it. Do it do it do it do it  
  
I do not think I will.  
  
Do it. The pressure in his temples increased to a steady ache that made him want to vomit. Everything fiber of his being wanted to get on the horse, and every fiber of his being was beginning to feel as if he was being lit on fire. He burned.  
  
"No," he ground out, shutting his eyes against the sudden onslaught of pain.  
  
"You just have to be difficult, don't you?" Harry snarled. "Finite Incantatem." The white fog as well as the blinding pain suddenly vanished, and Legolas was faintly surprised to find himself on his knees, waist deep in hay, hands covering his face. He took his hands slowly away and was surprised to find that they were wet with tears.  
  
"What have you done?" His voice was raspy, Harry looking strangely wavering through his tears. He had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand before he could see straight again. Harry's eyes were wide with shock, lips trembling as if he had been the one under the curse. "What have you done, Harry?"  
  
Harry knelt down next to Legolas, feeling blindly around until his hands came in contact with Legolas's shoulder. Legolas had to resist the urge to flinch away when Harry's fingers traced their way up to his wet cheeks. "You're crying," he said softly. His voice was filled with guilt. His eyes were blank and glazed over again.  
  
"How did we get here?" Legolas asked, and was shocked to see Harry reel as if he'd been struck.  
  
"I don't remember." Harry bit his lower lip.  
  
"You do not remember?"  
  
Harry nodded, wringing his hands tremulously. "If I have done something -- grievous -- I apologize. I don't remember -- I know I should -- what have I done?" He looked so guilty that Legolas felt his anger fade. He enfolded Harry in his arms gently.  
  
"Nothing of importance," he said softly, rocking Harry in his arms. "Would you still like to take a ride on Arod?"  
  
"If you do," Harry said seriously, voice still wavering just a bit. Legolas smiled down at Harry before he realized the action was wasted.   
  
"Of course I do."  
  
_________________________  
  
The ride took almost the rest of the day. They had returned to the kitchens before setting out on Arod, grabbing a small lunch that they ate beside a meandering stream a good distance north of Minas Tirith. They dallied for a good while there, and Harry's tunic got dirty and a bit ripped in the heat of the moment. Legolas laughed and promised to get him a new one, even as he eased his body over Harry's own and used rather pleasant methods to shut Harry up.  
  
The sun was setting by the time they got back on Arod to ride back to Minas Tirith. Legolas felt Harry lean his head between Legolas's shoulderblades, his hair tickling the back of Legolas's neck, and Legolas smiled despite himself.  
  
"Where are we going now?" Harry said sleepily, voice muffled in Legolas's tunic.  
  
Legolas wished he could turn around and see the expression on Harry's face; he loved watching Harry when he was sleepy. "Minas Tirith," he replied, and felt Harry tense from behind him.   
  
"But -- I just thought that -- well, maybe we could take a bit of a trip. See Valinor, like we talked about before. Don't you want to go there? I imagine it's lovely."  
  
"No, Harry." His voice sounded calm enough, but his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he thought perhaps Harry could hear it, and it felt like a swarm of midges was swirling around in his stomach. "We are going back to Minas Tirith. It is getting late." He was hyper aware of the fact that his bow was hanging off of the saddle and his two knives stuck in his belt. Foolish, foolish, foolish to let down his guard again. But he most grievously did not wish to harm Harry. But if he had to, he would.  
  
Suddenly there was the sharp edge of a knife cutting into his throat.  
  
"Turn this horse around, Legolas," Harry murmured into his ear, and his voice was one that Legolas recognized. It had the sharp edge that he remembered from his -- minutes, hours, days? -- under the curse.   
  
"I will not," he said, tensing his muscles, preparing to turn and take the knife from Harry by force. He had no compunctions about knocking Harry from the horse, if it meant taking that knife from him. But the knife pressed harder into his throat as if Harry knew what he was planning, barely splitting the skin, and a small trickle of blood ran down his neck and pooled in the hollow of his throat.  
  
"Do you want to hit me?" Harry asked conversationally. "Would you hurt me to get free? I don't think you could." Legolas felt a tug at his waist as Harry drew Legolas's two knives and dropped them to the ground. Arod gave a soft, concerned whinny. Harry laughed softly. "Well, I suppose now you certainly can't. Perhaps you could have threatened me with your knives, but do you really think you could bear hurt me with your own hands?" His voice got sharper. "Now, you will turn this horse around, or I will cut your throat."  
  
Legolas pressed his lips together. "Why are you doing this?" he asked before he could stop himself.  
  
The knife at his throat wavered just a bit, loosened up its pressure, and Legolas took the opportunity to knock the back of his head into Harry's own. As Harry sat there, stunned, Legolas twisted and knocked Harry off of the horse and onto the ground. The knife landed a few feet away. Legolas pinned Harry's hands above his head, and managed somehow to pin Harry's legs down with his body.   
  
Harry merely smiled seductively. "Are you going to hurt me?" he asked softly, arching his body up. "Are you angry? Hit me. Hurt me. I know that you want to." Even pinned as he was, he managed to rotate his hips against Legolas's.  
  
"I will not hurt you," Legolas said, horrified, and realized it was true; he could not bring himself to hurt Harry even if his life depended upon it. He realized a few moments later that it was taking a great deal of effort not to press his hips down against Harry's own.  
  
It was with the faint sensation of being run through with a sword that Legolas realized that Harry was staring straight at him. There was no trace of blindness in his eyes. Then Harry smiled again and and shut his eyes, purring, arching up again as if his spine was made out of liquid, and Legolas had a bit of trouble keeping his mind on the fact that Harry was probably plotting how to kill him. Had he ever been this easily distracted?  
  
He felt the cold prick of metal on his throat again, sighed, and realized that Harry had the knife again.  
  
"Get off me and get back on the horse," Harry said, his lip curling. "You disgust me." The knife point pressed against his neck, demanding he comply. He felt strangely numb.  
  
"I will not let you do this," he said. Harry's eyes widened and he suddenly threw back his head and laughed, a deep belly laugh that made Legolas ache with the familiarity of it.   
  
"You won't let me!" Harry said, still laughing, but there was no mirth in his voice and his eyes were cold. "You couldn't stop me if you had to." The look in his eyes changed, turning calculating. "I could pull this knife away and you'd still follow me, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Yes," Legolas said, the words escaping him before he could help it. But it was the truth -- he would follow Harry anywhere, undergo any cruelty, to make sure Harry stayed safe. He had to try again, even so. "Harry -- please, you must fight this. I do not know what is affecting you, possessing you, but I know how you are feeling -- I know that you cannot control what you are doing --"  
  
"Then let me disabuse you of that notion," Harry said coldly, the same look on his face that Legolas had seen on Orcs playing with their victims. "I know exactly what I am doing. And let me hasten to assure you that unless you do exactly as I say, you will very, very much regret every minute that you spent under Sauron's control." Harry's lips curled into an animal-like snarl. "Make me angry, and you will discover just how sorry you will become for every time that you made me scream." His bright, unblinking eyes stared into Legolas's own until Legolas had to look away.  
  
"I agree," he said softly, and Harry grinned, a crooked boyish grin that was almost painfully familiar.  
  
"That's good," he said cheerfully, all traces of earlier anger gone but for his eyes. "I really didn't want to get my hands bloody. Now, get on the horse. I won't ask you again."  
  
Legolas did as he said, feeling strangely dull. Harry swung onto the horse in front of him and clicked his tongue. Arod started off at a canter. There was a good hour of silence before Legolas chose to speak.  
  
"You will not be able to get to Valinor, Harry."  
  
Harry stopped Arod. "What do you mean?" he asked without turning, voice gone dangerously soft.   
  
The Valar grant permission to travel the Straight Road only to those with no malice in their hearts. You have no hope of ever reaching it."  
  
This time Harry did twist in his saddle, eyes narrowed and deadly. "You think so?" he asked quietly, menace radiating from every pore. "I would not be so certain if I were you." He paused, and that same calculating gaze entered his eyes. "The Valar love the First-born, do they not?" he asked, obviously thinking. He booted Arod, and the horse started walking again.  
  
"They do," Legolas said carefully. Harry turned back around.  
  
"Need is the path to Valinor," he mused. "Perhaps this will give the Valar an incentive to grant me the path to Valinor. If we are not able to travel the Straight Road, I will kill you. And it will not be a pleasant death. Let us see if they are willing to grant us passage if it means keeping the son of the King of Mirkwood alive." Harry sounded satisfied. There was a faintly sick feeling in the pit of Legolas's stomach.  
  
"They will not know," he said, lips numb. Harry chuckled.  
  
"I have heard somewhere that one of the Valar roams the lands of Middle-earth upon occasion. I have a feeling that the disappearance of an Elven Prince will be enough to catch his attention. They will know." He sounded smug. Giving up, Legolas laid his head on Harry's back and drifted into an easy sleep, lulled by Arod's soft footfalls and the heat radiating from Harry's skin.  
  
_________________________  
  
Draco was beginning to feel a bit foolish.  
  
Legolas and Harry had still not returned, and he had had ample time to think about how he'd acted -- like a Hufflepuff, shaking and scared and completely witless. He had been in worse situations and not acted half as idiotic.  
  
Perhaps, he amended, he had been in situations more hopeless with people more depraved, but he'd had no compunctions about hurting them. Hurting Harry had been quite out of the question. Although after he thought about it for a while, it wasn't so out of the question anymore. He would have given a great deal to beat some sense into Harry.  
  
But it was getting dark, and Draco felt a tiny string of worry worm its way into his thoughts.   
  
He ground his teeth. It'd be a cold day in hell before he worried about Harry again. He could obviously take care of himself.  
  
Which is why it seemed strange that he found himself knocking on Haldir's door not a half hour later, his stomach cramping with a mix of nervousness and anxiety. It seemed an eternity before the door finally opened.  
  
"Haldir, I --" The words died on his lips, and Rumil quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"I take it I am not the one you are looking for?" he said dryly. Draco shrugged, smirking. Rumil shook his head with a wry smile on his lips. "Let me get him for you, and then I will leave. Give you two some privacy." To Draco's surprise, he winked before disappearing into the room. He emerged a few seconds later, slipping past Draco with a whispered "good luck."  
  
Draco sighed. If only he was here for something as pleasurable as that. He bit his lip and squared his shoulders before walking into the room.  
  
Haldir was sitting on the bed, in a simple white tunic and green breeches, a book in his lap. When Draco entered, he raised one of his eyebrows sardonically. "Something on your mind?" he asked, but for a wonder there was no sarcasm in his tone. Draco would have sworn that he was worried as well.  
  
"Harry and Legolas aren't back yet," he said without preamble, and Haldir sighed.  
  
"I know," he said quietly, placing his book carefully on the bed and getting up restlessly. "They have been gone for too long. A ride on Arod would not have taken this long, even with their obvious -- distractions." A faint blush stained his cheeks.  
  
"Distractions?" Draco asked, smirking when Haldir shifted his gaze. "Could you elaborate?"  
  
"Oh, will you stop?" Haldir snapped. "I do not know what you want from me, and you are getting quite tiring --"  
  
Draco took a step forward, fixing an intense gaze on Haldir's own. "You don't know what I want?" he asked softly, seeing the muscles of Haldir's throat work as he swallowed convulsively. There was a faint, fading bruise on the junction of Haldir's neck and shoulder that Draco smiled to see. "Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough."  
  
"You are making yourself quite clear enough," Haldir said firmly, taking a step backwards, a wary expression on his face. "Very clear. Now, if you would not mind, I need to you to leave." As Draco continued to advance, Haldir's expression turned pleading. "I need to be alone."  
  
"How nice," Draco said in a conversational tone, finally backing Haldir against the wall and placing his hands on either side of his shoulders. "You can be alone with me." He leaned forward, catching Haldir's lips with his own in a gentle kiss.  
  
Haldir's hands flew to Draco's shoulders, trying to push him off. Draco smiled into Haldir's mouth and pressed his body flush up against the elf's, and the hands dug into his shoulders desperately. Haldir broke the kiss long enough to moan something that started life as "Stop" before Draco pressed his lips against Haldir's again.  
  
"Do you really want me to stop?" Draco said a few minutes later, and knew the answer even as Haldir caught breath enough to reply.  
  
And suddenly Haldir was kissing him with such fervor and skill that Draco let out a surprised moan into the elf's mouth. "What was that?" he gasped, trying to think even as Haldir snuck a hand into his breeches. He felt strangely lightheaded.  
  
Haldir's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Did you think that I had never done this before?" he asked, doing something wicked with his hand that made Draco's knees buckle, and when he slid to his knees, Haldir was there with him, pushing him urgently onto his back.  
  
"On -- the floor?" Draco managed to get out. Haldir busied himself with putting an impressive bruise on his neck in reply, smoothing his hands down the length of Draco's chest. Draco had to bite his lips to keep from making what was sure to be a pathetic whimper.  
  
Haldir was hooking his fingers in the top of Draco's trousers when the door slammed open, followed by several gasps. Haldir took his hands away from Draco's body as if he'd been burned and buried his face in his hands.  
  
Draco turned onto his stomach. "Ever heard of knocking, Aragorn?"  
  
Aragorn had a faintly shell-shocked expression on his face. "I -- apologize," he said, sounding faintly strangled. Arwen gave him a look, and Draco wouldn't have been surprised if she rolled her eyes. She glanced at Haldir and then to Draco, mouthing, "on the floor?" at him. Draco shrugged, unashamed.  
  
"What did you want?" Haldir asked, having finally taken his hands cautiously away from his face. He busied himself with pulling on a tunic, obviously trying to avoid looking at Arwen and Aragorn.   
  
"Harry and Legolas are gone," Aragorn said. With a start, Draco remembered his original purpose in coming to Haldir's apartments. Not that it had gone badly. Quite the opposite.  
  
"We know," Draco said. "They left a half a day ago, saying they were going to take a ride on Arod. They still haven't returned."  
  
Aragorn frowned. "He should have returned by now. Should we send out a search party?"  
  
Draco sighed irritably. "Why don't you go talk to Gandalf about it?" he asked, sending Arwen a significant look. She caught on and tugged on Aragorn's sleeve.   
  
"Let us go, melethron-ne," she said, pressing a gentle kiss on Aragorn's cheek. "We shall send out a search party as soon as we talk to Gandalf." Aragorn reluctantly left, Arwen sending a wink over her shoulder as they closed the door.  
  
But the moment was lost. When Draco finally got up off the floor, Haldir was fussing about with the strings on his shirt, his face white. "They know," he whispered. "They know, and they will tell."  
  
Draco felt a flare of anger. "Would that be so bad?" he asked, narrowing his eyes when Haldir turned a gaze on him that contained a hint of panic.   
  
"They will find out nothing, because this is nothing," Haldir hissed. "This is nothing, and nothing will ever happen again." He ran a hand through his hair and started for the door.  
  
Draco laid a hand on Haldir's arm even before he registered moving. "What is wrong?" Haldir stared down at Draco's hand as if it were a snake.  
  
"I am betrothed."  
  
Draco blinked. He removed his hand slowly, letting it drop to the side. "Betrothed?" he asked, a strange haze of rage clouding his vision. Haldir nodded, not meeting his eyes. Draco clenched his teeth. "Betrothed, and five minutes ago you were ready to fuck me into the floor."  
  
Haldir winced. "Please, leave it be," he said, pleading.   
  
"Fine," Draco ground out. "Fine." He hated the dramatics, hated the fact that despite himself, there was a demanding pressure behind his eyes over an elf that he'd met less than a week previously. Without bothering to put his shirt on, he swept out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the hinges were nearly pulled off.  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: Bad Haldir, bad! But it does make for some fun writing. Ah, how I enjoy this. *grins* And I get to write as much psychotic Harry as I want. Awesome.  
  
Hey, and by the way, gimme some reviews, folks! I'm starving! ...for reviews! 


	8. Requiem

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Eight: Requiem  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: S'that time again. Time for a new chapter! I'm being so good lately -- no two-month breaks in between chapters.  
  
I know you all were wondering why the heck Rumil egged Draco on -- I bet a good number of you thought it was a plot hole. *grins* Well, it's not! Surprise, surprise!   
  
You know, I think you guys could possibly the coolest readers ever. Ever ever ever, and I mean it, too. It sounds silly, but I feel so much better after I read what you guys said. So honestly, thank you more than anything for leaving me the wonderful reviews during my "why-even-write-when-Tolkien-whoops-me-up-like-I-owe-him-child-support" phase. I love you, I love you, I love you!  
  
This got a bit more violent than I thought it would. And a bit more graphic, though I have a feeling that ya'll won't mind that. But all the same, it's got some rather violent scenes in it.   
  
This chapter is officially dedicated to Whitney, for one of the best birthday presents ever. I loved it, and you should so be a professional. Peter Jackson would be jealous.  
  
_________________________  
  
"Some say the word will end in fire,  
  
Some say in ice.  
  
From what I've tasted of desire  
  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
  
But if it had to perish twice,   
  
I think I know enough of hate  
  
To say that for destruction ice  
  
Is also great  
  
And would suffice."  
  
-- Robert Frost, "Fire and Ice"  
  
_________________________  
  
There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back into awareness. Strange that he had not remembered falling asleep nor getting off the horse.   
  
"Wake up, Legolas," a voice whispered into his ear. "I need you to tell me something, please."  
  
It was the please more than anything else that made Legolas climb unsteadily to his feet. Harry stood before him, hands on his hips, tunic unlaced. Legolas kept his eyes firmly on Harry's face, which was beginning to look amused.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know how to get to the Gray Havens," Harry said sweetly, stretching his arms over his head, shirt riding up and showing his flat tanned stomach. He made it all look completely innocent. There was a strange feeling in the pit of Legolas's stomach that felt a bit too much like fear.  
  
"I apologize then," he returned in the same way, watching Harry's face carefully for signs of anger. "I am forbidden to show any but those with permission to the Gray Havens. I am afraid that I simply cannot." His gaze lowered for a moment despite his hardest efforts, lingering on the smooth curve of Harry's neck and shoulder. Harry saw his eyes lower and smiled.  
  
"And if I was willing to offer something in trade?" Harry said in a smoky tone that should not have been taken from the bedroom, managing somehow to shrug in a way that caused his tunic to slip down and bare a creamy shoulder. Harry glanced at it and then looked back at Legolas from beneath sinfully long lashes.  
  
Legolas drew in a breath to refuse, and Harry walked -- no, undulated -- to him, somehow pressing the entire length of his body against Legolas's own. His breath was damp and soft against Legolas's neck.   
  
"Because, trust me," Harry whispered, so softly that even Legolas's ears had trouble hearing him, "I would be entirely willing." He licked the side of Legolas's neck, laughing when he felt the shudder that ran through the elf's body.  
  
Legolas curled his hands into fists at his sides. He could not touch Harry. No matter how tempting the opportunity was. "I must not," he said, voice hoarse with the effort of refusing the offer even as Harry wound his limbs around Legolas's body. "I must not."  
  
"You are sure?" Harry asked. His hands snuck up under Legolas's tunic, skin impossibly hot. His lips were so close to Legolas's own that Legolas felt the whisper of them every time Harry talked. His hands shook with the effort of not bridging the tiny distance between them.  
  
"I am."  
  
With an irritated snort, Harry pushed off from Legolas, the loss of contact sending a wistful shiver up Legolas's spine. "Gods, but you weary me," Harry muttered, inspecting his fingernails before looking up at Legolas seriously. "I do not know quite what to do now. I must get to the Gray Havens, and I must keep you alive, but now you will not tell me how to get there and I find myself reluctant to do the latter." He spread his hands in a guileless shrug as if none of it were of his doing. "What am I to do?"  
  
"Not go?" Legolas asked dryly, regretting it immediately. But Harry simply laughed as if Legolas had uttered the funniest witticism and continued as if Legolas had not spoken.  
  
"I'm afraid that if I am forced to take the information from you, it will not be pleasant for you. Although I'm certain it will be quite entertaining for me. Now, please, reconsider. I do not wish to waste my time with something so trivial that you will end up giving me anyway."  
  
"You are so sure of that?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry's eyes were cold.  
  
"Then I suppose my evening will not be pleasant," Legolas said lightly. "I --"   
  
Harry cut him off abruptly by stalking closer, his every move radiating malevolence.  
  
"It takes hours to beat a man to death," Harry whispered, steady green gaze boring into Legolas's own until Legolas had to repress a shudder. "That is a very long time to scream for the mercy that you will not get."  
  
Legolas forced himself to look Harry straight in the eye. "Do as you will to me," he said, watching helplessly as Harry's eyes grew narrow with rage. "It will not bend my will nor break my spirit. I will not show you the path to the Gray Havens."  
  
Harry's lip curled back in a feral snarl. "You have just made a very large mistake, Legolas," he hissed. "One I am not sure you will live to regret." Without warning, he grabbed Legolas by the throat and squeezed, forcing Legolas to his knees and then to his back. Legolas clawed at the hand that was crushing his windpipe, trying to draw in breath. Tiny black specks floated across his vision.  
  
Harry abruptly let go. Legolas coughed, his hands going to his throat, and Harry grabbed his shoulders and flipped him onto his back, pinning him with a foot to the back of his neck. Knowing that the slightest provocation would bring that foot crushing through his spine, Legolas went deathly still.  
  
Harry bent down, keeping the foot carefully on his neck. "Move, and I will kill you," he said softly, and the foot was removed. Legolas stayed where he was, his heart beating a frantic tattoo against his chest.   
  
Legolas heard Harry's footsteps return and suddenly there was a rope binding his two wrists together. He winced when the rope was pulled too tightly. Despite himself, he began to feel a desperate swell of fear.  
  
From somewhere above him, Harry spoke, a smile in his voice. "Magic is so -- impersonal, sometimes, don't you agree, Legolas?" There was a whoosh, and a thick branch cracked down on Legolas's thigh, breaking the skin and making him wince. "But sometimes, magic combined with the right physical abuse makes it that much better." A foot slammed into his side. He heard the distinct sound of a rib cracking and stifled a whimper behind his teeth, determined not to make any noise. "I suppose you don't know what I'm talking about. Let me show you."  
  
Legolas twisted his head to speak just as Harry whispered "Crucio," and what had began life as a plea somehow became a choked scream.  
  
_________________________  
  
There was a strange haze of red around his vision. He itched to hex someone, kill someone, and in the back of his mind that was still rational, he knew that he did not want that someone to be Haldir.  
  
There was really only one person he could think to blame now. Someone who was coincidentally walking down the hall towards him.  
  
"Draco!" Rumil said, grinning widely, obviously taking in Draco's flushed complexion and making assumptions. Draco wanted to wrap his fingers around Rumil's throat.  
  
Draco put his hands on Rumil's shoulders and shoved him back, advancing after Rumil when he stumbled back. He was dying to pull out his wand.  
  
"You deceived me," he hissed in a low voice, watching as Rumil's eyes widened. "My God, you all but gave me your blessings. And you let me find out that he's -- betrothed?" He pulled back a fist, intending to smash it squarely into Rumil's guilty face.  
  
Rumil raised both his hands, his large gray eyes pleading. "Please, Draco. You do not understand --"  
  
"Fuck you," Draco said, and bit his lip in agitation. He'd never meant to get so enraged -- he'd wanted to get an explanation, but he was beginning to think that casting an Unforgivable or two would not be amiss. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and began again. When he spoke, his voice was acceptably calm. "Why didn't you tell me Haldir was betrothed?"  
  
Rumil sighed, cautiously putting his hands down as if he expected Draco to change his mind and attack him. "Haldir's betrothed lives in Lothlorien, over which he guarded. She was handmaiden to Galadriel. He met her on one of his patrols, and she was instantly smitten with him." Giving him a wry look, Rumil shrugged and a corner of his lip twitched. "Even if you do not know Haldir well, you should know by now that he has an unshakable sense of duty. This handmaiden had fallen so deeply in love with him that he saw it as his duty to marry her. I -- I do not know what his feelings are towards her. He has never revealed them to me."  
  
Draco felt strangely emotionless. It took him a while to realize that Rumil had stopped speaking. "This elf -- is she beautiful?" he asked, immediately regretting it. Rumil's mouth twisted.  
  
"She is beautiful," he said simply. Draco's heart gave a painful little lurch in his chest.  
  
"That still doesn't explain why you didn't -- " he began, and suddenly it dawned on him. Draco's eyes widened despite himself. "You're in love with her."  
  
Rumil raised his hands with an expression of shock on his face, but Draco plowed on determinedly.  
  
"You wanted me to entice Haldir away from his betrothed." Draco studied Rumil's face. "So you used me. Clever."  
  
Rumil opened his mouth as if he wanted to protest, but dropped his hands and shook his head instead. "You are wise," he said dryly. "I cannot say anything in my defense. When you arrived, I saw how he looked at you. He knew you were beautiful." Rumil flashed a cheeky grin at him. "So did I. Were I not in love, I would have gone after you myself." He stopped, sighing and becoming melancholy again. "But I am in love, and to all appearances, my plan has failed." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked so pitiful that Draco felt an unfamiliar swell of sympathy. He couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't have done the same if he had been in Rumil's position.  
  
But there was the matter of his pride. Pride dictated that he act like a Malfoy. Pride demanded that he not help his betrayer. Pride was what he had sacrificed when he'd fallen in love with Harry, and goddamn it, he would not do anything of the sort ever again.  
  
He turned his head a bit to the side, curling his lip as if he'd seen something especially repulsive. He added a raised eyebrow for effect. "This is heartwrenching, truly, but I'm afraid that I don't think I can help you with your -- problem," he sneered, watching as Rumil's expression changed from sadness to shock. "Haldir was a momentary solution to my boredom. A distraction; nothing else. Nothing that I would be inclined to pursue further."   
  
"What are you talking about, Draco?" Rumil asked incredulously. "I know you feel something for him, be it desire or fondness. Either, given time, can evolve into love. And I need your help."  
  
"Touching. But this is not my problem." He turned to go with that parting blow, flicking his cloak behind him.  
  
"This is your problem." Rumil's voice was icy. "Haldir is leaving to meet his fiancee at the Gray Havens in three days. You alone can find a way to keep him here. Whether you succeed or not, I will be leaving then. I would be greatly indebted to you if you somehow managed to persuade him to stay." His voice had changed from cold to pleading at the last. Draco ruthlessly suppressed a last wave of pity.  
  
"I see. But I can find more worthy pursuits. I suggest you drop this subject." He gave a sickly sweet, serpent's smile to Rumil over his shoulder before stalking off, a strange pain in his chest.  
  
_________________________  
  
"Ai! Saes! S-saes!"  
  
"I don't think I heard you, Legolas. Are you asking me for something?"   
  
"Saes -- daro! Harry! Do not d-do this!"  
  
"Tell me what I want to hear."   
  
"Harry, I m-must not!"  
  
Swish crack. A scream.  
  
"Well, that's too bad, Legolas. Ah, well, I can't be too disappointed." Another crack, and a cry. "This is the most fun I've had in ages."  
  
"Saes, mercy -- "  
  
"No, I don't think so. Now, I want you to count."  
  
_________________________  
  
Draco slowed down once he turned the corner, pressing his back against the wall and leaning his head forward onto his chest. His middle felt hollow.  
  
"Three days," he mumbled to himself. Strange how those two words could evoke such a sense of longing. But he would keep himself occupied. Keep himself from thinking of the beautiful elf, Haldir's fiancee, waiting at the Gray Havens. If she was as beautiful as Rumil had thought she was, no doubt Haldir was in love with her, after all. It -- hurt, in a way that only a few people had managed to hurt him, to think that he had only been pursuit -- a momentary distraction to Haldir's boredom, he thought with a curl to his lip. He'd had his fair share of those up until fifth year, and a good number after Harry, as well. He had never thought he would be on the receiving end of an illicit affair.  
  
"Nice time for karma to finally bite me in the ass," he muttered, and a servant girl scurrying by him dropped her basket of laundry and cast a shocked look before hurrying about her duties twice as fast as before. He had to get his mind off of Haldir.  
  
He used the simplest route that his mind had been traversing even before he'd begun worrying about Haldir. Harry was out there somewhere. Perhaps if he took the fastest horse -- but, no. He'd already told himself that rushing off on a fool's errand such as the one he was contemplating would simply not happen. Even if he was worried sick about Harry.   
  
Somehow, he changed his mind in the space of time it took for him to get to Aragorn's room.  
  
_________________________  
  
"I can't hear you counting, Legolas. Must I start over?"  
  
"No -- oh, g-gods, please -- f-fifteen --"  
  
_________________________  
  
Draco had to clear his throat twice before he finally caught Aragorn's attention.  
  
"A search party," he demanded. "It's been a half a day. More than a half a day. Have you sent out a search party yet?"  
  
Arwen and Aragorn exchanged looks. A nagging sense of suspicion grew in Draco's mind.  
  
"Draco," Arwen started, and then stopped, shaking her head.   
  
"What?"  
  
Aragorn stepped forward, putting a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder. "We sent out a search party," he said softly. "Haldir insisted upon going. As soon as Legolas and Harry are found, Haldir plans on going directly to the Gray Havens to meet his fiancee. I am sorry."  
  
Draco shrugged Aragorn's hand off his shoulder, feeling a bit like a petulant child. He had no doubt that he was pouting like one.   
  
"I don't care," he said sullenly. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way to catch up to Haldir, even as he acknowledged in the back of his mind that it was near impossible.  
  
"Draco," Arwen said again, carefully. "Would you mind terribly if we sent you out looking for Harry and Legolas, as well? We could use your powers in the search, if Harry is truly acting as you said he was."  
  
Draco smiled at her, surprisingly genuine despite himself. He knew what she was doing. She sent him a small smile in return.  
  
"I would be honored."  
  
_________________________  
  
For a long, long moment Legolas could not think of anything but that the pain had stopped coming.  
  
Then the feeling returned to his body and he had to stifle a cry. He was on fire -- the backs of his legs, his backs, his arms. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to exist. He stared down to where blood had run down his back and legs, gathering in a red pool on the ground beneath his feet. His tunic was damp with sweat and blood and hanging off him in shreds.   
  
He must have stopped screaming at some point, but he couldn't remember when.  
  
He almost couldn't remember when Harry had untied his hands from behind his back, only to drag him between two trees and tie him there instead, one arm to each tree. He hung there now, his legs unable to keep him standing.  
  
He became aware of the noises he was making. Pitiful, whimpering cries and sobbing breaths. The slow trickle of blood down his body was agonizing. Gods, but he wanted to die.  
  
"Look at me, Legolas." There were fingers beneath his chin, forcing his head up so that he could look into Harry's cold eyes. Harry's hand cupped his cheek with false sympathy, an amused smile on his face. "Now, are you going to tell me? I can continue this, if you would like. I do not need you to be able to stand for you to lead me to the Gray Havens." His hand gently caressed Legolas's skin. There were tiny drops of blood splattered across Harry's left cheek.  
  
"Please --"  
  
Legolas's voice was hoarse from hours of screaming, his mouth filled with foamy blood from where he'd bitten his lips and tongue to shreds to keep silent. He writhed in his bonds slightly. Even that slight motion caused his abused muscles to scream in protest.   
  
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You will take me there."   
  
Legolas's eyes drifted despite himself to the bloody branch in Harry's left hand. Harry saw him and grinned, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I take it you do not wish for me to continue," he said, sympathetic, his thumb rubbing away the blood leaking from the corner of Legolas's mouth. "Say you will take me to the Gray Havens and I will release you."  
  
"I will -- I will do anything you ask of me," he said between sobs, voice cracking with the intensity of his desire to be free. He meant every word. Gods -- he'd never known pain like that had existed.  
  
Harry's smile turned satisfied. "Very nice," he said, leaning closer until his nose was nearly touching Legolas's own. "Now, give me a kiss."   
  
Trembling, Legolas managed to press his lips softly to Harry's own, neither responding nor fighting when Harry coaxed his mouth open. He convulsed violently against his bonds, his sharp cry swallowed by Harry's mouth, when Harry slid his arms around him and pressed them to Legolas's bloody back.  
  
Finally Harry pulled away, smiling, Legolas's blood on his lips and staining his teeth. "Say you love me," he chided gently.  
  
Legolas twisted his arms in the ropes binding him to the trees. "I love you," he said dully. Harry's smile grew expectant, and somehow, Legolas knew what he wanted. "My lord."  
  
"Very prettily said." The bonds on his arms were untied and he collapsed to the ground, boneless, pain shooting through his body. He looked up to Harry through vision blurred with tears that he had somehow managed to not shed.  
  
"Why?" he whimpered, voice breaking. Harry bent down and laid a hand on Legolas's hair, smoothing the sweaty strands away from his face, smirking when Legolas flinched back.  
  
"Oh, Legolas," Harry sighed, fingering the braid hanging next to Legolas's ear. "Do you see how easy this would have been if you had just simply agreed in the first place?" He leaned down close again, his breath puffing gently on Legolas's face. "Does it hurt?" he whispered against Legolas's ear.  
  
Legolas clenched his lips shut and turned his head to one side. Harry's eyes turned cold.  
  
"I thought you learned your lesson, Legolas," he hissed, dragging his fingernails up Legolas's back, smiling at Legolas's scream. Legolas watched through blurry vision as Harry brought his hand up, inspecting the blood beneath his fingernails. "Answer me. Does it?"  
  
"Yes," Legolas gasped desperately, nodding weakly, bringing a hand up to wipe away the sweat that was threatening to drip into his face. He closed his eyes.  
  
"Good." Harry's expression turned pleased. He wiped the blood from his hand off in Legolas's hair. "Then cry for me, Legolas."  
  
Legolas bit his lip, feeling tears sting his closed eyelids, and he forced himself not to cry. But when Harry touched his cheek gently, his resolve broke and the tears came, dissolving into pleading, whimpering cries.  
  
"Manka lle merna, herunya," he managed to whisper between sobs that shook his entire body. The hand that stroked his hair with false comfort somehow only coaxed more tears. He buried his head in his hands and drew a deep shuddering breath.  
  
"None of that, now, Legolas," Harry said, prying Legolas's hands away from his face. He tilted Legolas's face up with a hand under his chin. "You are doing so well. Now, point me the way to the Gray Havens. And please don't pretend you don't know. I am quite familiar with the elvish sense of direction."  
  
Legolas lifted a bloodied, shaking hand and pointed it vaguely off to his right. Harry smiled, pleased, and Legolas felt a shock of longing.   
  
It made it worse, in a way, to know that he still loved Harry -- that even though Harry had blood speckling his face and coldness in his eyes, he was still beautiful, and Legolas could not separate this Harry from the one that he had gone to Valinor to save.   
  
"Thank you, Legolas." The repeated use of his name sounded patronizing. He didn't have the energy to care. "Do you need help getting on the horse?"  
  
"No," Legolas snapped, but he had to use the tree truck to pull himself to his feet. The thought of Harry's hands on his body, even to help him, terrified him beyond rational thinking. It took him three tries to get on Arod's back, even when Arod bent his knees to help him. And then Harry climbed on in front of him.  
  
"Hold on," Harry said softly. Legolas cringed, steeled himself, and carefully wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. Harry laughed and clicked his tongue, the wind ruffling his hair into Legolas's face. Legolas inhaled sharply when the horse started off, the tatters of his tunic rubbing gently against his raw back, and somehow through the wind he managed to catch the faint scent of lye soap and Harry's familiar scent. He leaned his forehead on Harry's back and let the pleasantness of unconsciousness take him away from his wounds and Harry and strangely alluring thoughts of death.  
  
_________________________  
  
Saes -- please  
  
Manka lle merna -- as you wish  
  
Herunya -- my lord  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: Uh. Yes, well, so it's violent and nasty. Would it be bad if I said that it was sort of fun to write it?  
  
And you guys did so wonderfully wonderful last time with the reviews -- keep it up! I adored it beyond the measure of earthly adoration. Seriously. Plus, today is my birthday! *squee!* Recieved, among other things, the Galadriel ring from the Noble Collection, which I shall add to my One Ring, Ring of Barahir, and Elven Necklace. *dies* 


	9. Puppetmaster

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Nine: Puppetmaster  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: Well. Now that we've gotten some Legolas torture out of the way, it's time to torture everyone else.   
  
Hope the Harry weirdness ain't turning anyone off from the story -- trust me implicitly when I say that it's not a mistake or something that I'm doing without a plan in mind. It'll all fit quite nicely together in the end, and I've got it allll worked out. Have faith in me. :D  
  
Just cause I feel like it, I'm gonna reply to the reviews I got on the last chapter. It's fun and it makes me feel happy.  
  
Legolas19 -- Is this quick enough? Wrote it in seminar one day. I hate seminar (academic lab, my ass), but it's quite nice for trying to catch up with my writing.  
  
Kitta Baby -- Awesome. I love sad love stories. And thanks for the birthday wishes.  
  
Jenn -- *wince* I'll be doin' my splainin soon, I promise! ...sort of!  
  
Hiten Mitsurugi Kitsune -- You know, it really would suck if you felt Legolas's pain for real, because I imagine he's in quite a bit of it. ...er, on a more serious note, I feel sort of bad about all the mean stuff I'm doin' to Legolas, because I don't know when it's gonna let up.   
  
mango -- thanks :D ...is it a good interesting or a bad interesting? And I've thought about it...but for some reason, my mind has something against Haldir POV. Perhaps I'll try it soon.  
  
Holy-Demon -- Well, that was the point, but sorry for making you cry anyways. *grin*  
  
Leah -- hehe, it was, and being sadistic is okay.  
  
April Stammpants -- You know me too well, April. glad you like it, you know I value your opinion. :D  
  
Jane -- oh awesome, glad you think it's as good as the first. whew. ;)  
  
Illucia -- Nah, you're not too sleepy, because Harry is acting very very weird indeed. I suppose the reason that Draco went along is that Harry's a sucker for a pouty lip. *grin*  
  
Lauren and all you gals down under -- How cool is that? I'm glad you guys like it so much -- you won't have to check back every day, cause I'll put you on my mailing list. :)   
  
Whew, fun fun. I love reviews. *hugs everyone*  
  
Er...I hate to say it, but if I ever meet any of my Harrys, I'd wanna meet the one from this chapter. *grin*  
  
_________________________  
  
"It is truth, but truth is not always appearance."  
  
-- from "Sleepy Hollow"  
  
_________________________  
  
Legolas stared down at his hands in amazement.  
  
They were gone. His wounds were simply -- gone.  
  
He had awoken curled up on the ground, exhausted despite his sleep and fully expecting to relive the agony that had driven him into unconsciousness in the first place -- only to find that his wounds had disappeared as if they'd never been.  
  
Legolas reached a shaking hand around his back cautiously and touched the skin, wincing purely out of reflex, not even finding a hint of scar tissue. He brought his hand back in front of his face. No blood. No pain. No -- anything.  
  
He slowly got to his feet. Harry had to have taken him off the horse to stop for the night. The sun was just barely above the horizon, casting the sky into a shade of reddish orange that seemed strangely dull. The entire world seemed gray despite the sunrise. There wasn't even a hint of wind.  
  
"Harry?" he whispered and immediately pressed a hand to his throat, eyes wide in shock. Even the hoarseness from the screaming Harry had coaxed from him the day before was gone as well. "Harry?" he said again, louder, hating the pleading quality to his voice. There was no answer.  
  
Something nudged his side and he jumped, hands going reflexively for knives that weren't there. He spun, hands up, and found himself looking into a pair of sad, liquid brown eyes.  
  
"Arod," he said softly, reaching out to stroke the horse's neck. Arod blinked balefully, gave a soft whicker and began to walk away. Legolas sighed, too tired and heartsore to care. He turned to leave, and a soft horse's muzzle nudged his elbow. He whirled around, irritated.  
  
"What?" he asked. Arod simply stared at him meaningfully and turned to walk away again. When Legolas only gazed after him, Arod turned his head and snorted in his direction, and then plodded off again. Something clicked.  
  
"You wish for me to follow you?" he asked, feeling a bit foolish. Arod continued to walk, swishing his tail. Legolas sighed and walked after him. After a bit, Arod broke into a slow trot, whinnying in pleasure when Legolas kept up with him easily. Finally Arod stopped.  
  
Legolas looked into the depths of the dark clump of trees a bit doubtfully. "In here?" he whispered. Arod prodded his back with his nose gently, and Legolas reluctantly began to walk into the wood, careful not to make a sound.  
  
It was about five minutes before he heard it, and a few more minutes after that before he found the source of it.  
  
Harry sat with his back against a dying tree, surrounded by dull brown leaves, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head resting on them. He was sobbing fit to break any heart. When Legolas took a step closer, Harry's head shot up, blank pale gaze fixed uncannily on Legolas, or close enough.  
  
"Who is it?" he asked, sounding panicked. His hand strayed towards a knife at his belt, one that Legolas was surprised to recognize as one of his own.  
  
Legolas took another step closer, gaze fixed on the shining tracks of tears trailing down Harry's face. "Tis only I."  
  
Harry's expression twisted and he lowered his head back onto his knees. He spoke without looking up.  
  
"Woke up," he mumbled, voice rough from tears. "Smelled blood. I thought there was an orc attack -- I couldn't think, I just panicked. And then I stumbled across you, and I felt your eyelids, and I remembered hearing that elves never sleep with their eyes closed." Legolas saw him shiver. "I guess I found where the blood had come from. Your back -- God, it was soaked through. I thought you were dead."  
  
Legolas reached out a hand to console him. His arm stopped as if he'd been frozen. There was blood covering Harry's hands, splattered over Harry's arms, speckling Harry's face. "You remember -- nothing?" he asked. He remembered having a similar conversation after they'd left Minas Tirith, and wondered if it would be this way until Harry finally reached Valinor, or killed him; Harry hurting him and then somehow forgetting. He had a feeling that he could go insane before it was all over.  
  
"Legolas --" Harry said, voice becoming louder and more hurried. "When I felt you dying -- something happened, something magic that I've never done before. I didn't even have my wand out, but somehow your back healed, and I don't know how I did it."   
  
Legolas rubbed his arms almost unconsciously, his skin tingling with the memory of the night before.   
  
"I don't know how I did it," Harry repeated in a whispered tone, finally raising his head. "I just -- I've never been so strong before. He wrapped his arms around his knees and shuddered so hard it looked as if he'd fall over. "What's happening to me?"  
  
He looked so frightened that Legolas reached out a hand without even thinking and touched Harry's cheek gently, relieved when Harry leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. A bit of dried blood flaked off Harry's face onto Legolas's palm. He couldn't find it in himself to draw his hand back even so.  
  
"I'm stronger than this, you know," Harry murmured, lifting his hand up and taking Legolas's own hand on his cheek in a loose grip. "But I know that something happened, something that I did, and you're not telling me." He bit his lower lip. "What have I done?"  
  
Legolas froze. Those words -- he remembered Harry saying those words to him before.  
  
When Legolas didn't speak, Harry's lips turned down. "I have done something horrible," Harry said in a small voice. "Was it -- was it I who did that to you?"  
  
"Yes," Legolas said softly. "Can you honestly tell me that you cannot remember?" He wished that he had some way to know if everything Harry said was a trick. With the way Harry acted of late, he would not have been surprised.  
  
Harry nodded. The tears were beginning to dry on his face.  
  
"Would you -- could you just, please --" he broke off in mid sentence, face red and somehow ashamed. "I know I hurt you, but could you just kiss me? Just once. Please." He twisted his hands nervously. There was a spot of dried blood, Legolas's own, on his lower lip that Legolas couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of.  
  
"Please."  
  
It was the last please, spoken in such a pleading tone, that finally undid him, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to Harry's with a whispered word of assent. Harry parted his lips, and Legolas inhaled sharply when he felt Harry's tongue outlining his mouth. Without quite being aware of what he was doing, he slid his hands up Harry's neck and into Harry's hair, pressing Harry closer, trying to mold their mouths even tighter together. Harry let out a helpless little moan, his hands going to Legolas's shoulders where they fisted desperately at the fabric of Legolas's tunic. Legolas felt a shiver go down his spine when one of Harry's fingers grazed the skin of his neck.  
  
Legolas's mind wandered for a moment. It was strange, somehow, that no matter what Harry had done, for the space of a few minutes, all of it could be erased in something as simple as a kiss.  
  
Then Harry groaned, and Legolas realized that while he'd let his mind free, his hands had developed quite the mind of their own.  
  
"No," he said, pulling away, breaths ragged and labored. Harry stared blankly to his right, face flushed and lips swollen, breathing as heavily as Legolas suspected he himself was.  
  
"Why --" Harry began, and then shook his head, almost visibly composing himself. "We mustn't. We --"  
  
He was cut off by the pressure of Legolas's lips on his own. Legolas felt Harry's arms slide around him and did the same, one hand playing with the hem of Harry's tunic and going beneath it to stroke the small of Harry's back gently.  
  
"Remove your hands from him, or I will shoot."  
  
Legolas pried his lips from Harry's and turned his head, staring incredulously at Haldir's figure and the arrow aimed not at him, but to his right.  
  
"Haldir?" he whispered. Haldir did not answer, staring stonily behind him. It occurred to Legolas that his hands were still resting on Harry's back and he removed them, feeling a bit as if in a dream. He distantly felt Harry do the same.  
  
"You would shoot me?" Harry said, and Legolas almost let out an audible moan of dismay. He turned slowly, afraid of what he would see. Harry was staring directly at Haldir, his eyes crystal clear and dangerous.  
  
"I would." Haldir's voice was steady. Still staring at Harry, Legolas carefully got to his feet and backed away. Harry and Haldir seemed locked in a battle of will.   
  
Finally Harry shrugged and got up as well.  
  
"It makes no difference to me," he said, something unpleasant lurking near the corner of his mouth. "But it is too bad that you had not found us yesterday. I did an admirable job of giving Legolas a lesson. Perhaps I could have taught you manners as well."  
  
"You --" Haldir's hand remained steady on the bow, but his lips tightened slightly in anger. "What have you done to him?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened in mock innocence. "Why, I surely don't know what you're talking about. Legolas, have you any marks on you?"  
  
Legolas stared at Harry in shock. "You mean --"  
  
Harry laughed. "Oh Legolas, it is almost too easy to get your trust," he said, smiling as if joy had him by the throat. "You are naive. I am surprised you aren't dead a hundred times over." He turned to look at Haldir. Legolas simply stood, frozen, watching the scene before him in a daze. "Now, what are you planning to do with me?"   
  
"Kill you," Haldir said simply, his composure recovered, and he drew back the bowstring taut.  
  
"No, Haldir!" Legolas said. "You must not!"  
  
Haldir's eyes flickered to him, resolve wavering, and in that moment, Legolas saw movement from the corner of his eye.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Haldir flew backwards, hitting a tree with an audible crack and falling to his stomach. He did not move. Legolas let out a cry, starting forward. Harry simply stood, arms crossed with a smile of satisfaction on his face, his wand tapping against one thigh.   
  
"How could you, Harry?" Legolas asked, voice breaking. Harry's smile grew.  
  
"But Legolas, I am the monster that near beat you to death last night. Are you so surprised that I used force to subdue someone who was going to kill me?" At Legolas's wounded look, he laughed. "Do not worry, Legolas. I pull my punches. He is not dead, nor even unconscious. Merely stunned. He should get up in a few moments." Harry winked at Legolas and walked to where Haldir lay, grabbing his hair and pulling Haldir to his knees, letting his grip on Haldir's hair go once Haldir looked as if he could keep to his knees without falling. Haldir wavered, swaying drunkenly. "But I do not plan on giving him that opportunity."  
  
"Harry -- " Legolas started, beginning to walk forward, but Harry pressed his wand to Haldir's throat, stopping Legolas in his tracks.  
  
"Now, now, Legolas. Not another step. I don't want you ruining my fun."  
  
And then Harry's face gained a contemplative look that made Legolas's fists clench.  
  
"No, I've changed my mind. Do come here, Legolas."  
  
With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, his eyes focused on Haldir's drifting gaze, he stepped forward.  
  
"Legolas, how do you say 'kill him' in Elvish, please?"  
  
Bile rose in the back of Legolas's throat. "No, Harry, you cannot --" He was cut off when Harry pressed his wand closer in Haldir's throat. Haldir was beginning to regain his bearings, the dazed look in his eyes clearing and finally focusing on Legolas's pained expression.  
  
"How do you say it, Legolas?"  
  
"Dago hon," Legolas said faintly. Haldir blinked, surprised at hearing his native language.   
  
"Perfect," Harry said pleasantly. "Dago hon, Legolas."  
  
Haldir's lips parted a little, a hissing breath escaping him despite his look of composure. "Legolas, do not."  
  
Legolas could not move, frozen in place by both the threat in Harry's eyes and the pleading in Haldir's. "I cannot."  
  
Harry's face dropped the pretense of pleasantness, a cold, irritated look coming over him. "Kill him now," he hissed, "or I shall do it, in worse ways that you can imagine."   
  
"Please --"  
  
Harry kept his eyes coldly calculating on Legolas's own. Keeping his wand at Haldir's throat, he lifted his other hand and gently stroked the side of Haldir's neck with the back of two fingers, smiling a little when he felt the involuntary shudder run down Haldir's body. Haldir shut his eyes, pressing his lips together tightly until they were white. There was a cruel look on Harry's face, and finally Legolas understood.  
  
"No," he pleaded. "Harry, you must not do this. You cannot." He reached a beseeching hand towards Harry. Harry simply raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I do not see why not, Legolas, since my touch has become so abhorrent to you." He smiled down at Haldir. "After all, seneschal, you are very beautiful." Haldir turned pale and Harry laughed gaily. "Perhaps I should see for myself what you have been giving Draco." For some reason, Haldir's eyes became a bit wider, his face a bit paler, when Harry spoke Draco's name. Legolas watched, unable to move, as Harry leaned down and took Haldir's lips with his own. Haldir's hands clenched into fists at his sides when Harry coaxed his mouth open and ran his hands up Haldir's arms to grasp his shoulders gently. Despite himself, Legolas was transfixed by the slow, perverse glide of Harry's lips against Haldir's, how Harry dominated the kiss in a way that he had never done with Legolas, the way Harry's lashes were so long against his cheeks that they seemed an extension of the shadows. Haldir's eyes were open, and he glanced over at Legolas, a look of not-quite betrayal in his eyes.  
  
"Please, Harry." Harry broke the kiss and raised an eyebrow at Legolas, his lips glistening. Haldir sagged as if Harry had sucked his life out in the kiss, only Harry's hands grasping his upper arms keeping him on his knees. Legolas took a step foward, his mind racing, barely able to bring himself to be close to Harry even to save his friend's life. "If you -- if you have ever held any affection for me, do not do this, I beg of you."  
  
"Well, Legolas, I --"  
  
Without warning, Haldir pursed his mouth and spat onto Harry's face. "Amin feuya ten lle," he hissed venomously. He didn't need to say what it meant; the tone spoke it for him. "You disgust me."  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
Then Harry laughed, and there was a cold note of amusement woven into it that froze Legolas's blood. He wiped the spittle from his face with a facade of good-nature.  
  
"You deprive me of my sport, Legolas. But ask me properly, and I shall do as you wish."   
  
Without a thought Legolas got down on his knees, and then after a moment stretched out his hands in front of him so that he lay prostrate before Harry, ignoring Haldir's horrified stare. He looked up into Harry's eyes, reaching a hand forth and touching the tip of Harry's boot. "Please, my lord," he said pleadingly. "Please, do not -- do not take him." He gazed into Harry's eyes, watching the smirk curve Harry's lips. "I will do anything you ask of me."  
  
Harry waved a hand. "That is sufficient," he said. "Get up." He reached down and lifted Legolas's chin, raising it until Legolas was forced to follow Harry's hand up to his feet. Harry placed a tiny kiss on Legolas's cheek.  
  
"I suppose you've convinced me," he said, pushing Legolas away. Legolas managed not to stumble. "So, I have decided to give him the mercy of a quick death."  
  
Everything seemed to happen in a daze. Legolas saw Harry raise his hand, saw his lips form strange words and an orb of glowing green death appear at the end of his wand. Haldir stared into the light, transfixed.   
  
"Haldir!"  
  
Legolas's muscles bunched and he threw himself into Haldir's side with all of his strength, the force of the blow bearing Haldir to the ground. He heard Harry yell something incoherent, felt the spell pass by his head, and the last thing he saw before he lost his grasp on consciousness was Harry's shocked eyes staring into his own.  
  
_________________________  
  
Someone was shaking his shoulders. He tried to raise a hand to bat them off, but his arms wouldn't move. His head was throbbing violently with every beat of his heart.  
  
"Stop," he mumbled, and his head pulsed with a vengeance. He again tried to bring his hands up to rub at his temples.   
  
"Get up, you idiot. And stop trying to get your hands free before you rub your wrists bloody."  
  
Legolas sat up so suddenly that Harry had to jump back to keep from getting hit. Legolas stared up into Harry's smirking face, acutely aware of the rough rope lashing his wrists tightly together. "My hands are tied," he said unnecessarily. Harry winked at him and grinned crookedly.  
  
"Of course they are," he said pleasantly. "I don't want you struggling when I give you the news."  
  
Legolas felt his heart stop in his chest at the cruel, amused look on Harry's face. Harry knelt down next to where Legolas sat, cupping Legolas's chin and forcing him to stare into cold green eyes.  
  
"I'm afraid your heroic sacrifice was for nothing, Legolas." Legolas stared at him, uncomprehending. The corner of Harry's eyes crinkled as he laughed. "Haldir is dead."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Dead?" Legolas whispered. He couldn't seem to quite wrap his mind around it. "He is -- dead?"  
  
"Killed him after you fainted," Harry agreed cheerfully. He took hold of Legolas's shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Legolas stared straight ahead, his mind whirling. Dead. "I'd show you his body, but I don't think you could handle it right now, could you, Legolas?"  
  
"No," Legolas said quietly. Without warning, he threw himself sideways, knocking Harry to the ground. He was barely aware of the tears coursing down his face, only that Harry was on the ground with a bloody split lip and that his hands were tied behind his back. He cursed through his tears, struggling to free himself, working his wrists to bloody tatters trying to get his hands out of the ropes. Harry had sat up and was watching him now, shaking his head balefully. Legolas's muscles trembled on the verge of exhaustion.  
  
"If you do not calm yourself, I shall do it for you," Harry said, and it was the cool tone in his voice as much as the threat that made Legolas stop struggling and go limp in his bonds. He hung his head, shivering violently, flinching when Harry's hand touched his back, damp with sweat.  
  
Harry stroked the length of his back like he would a wild horse. "It really is too bad that I was forced to kill him," Harry said, consoling, but there was a cruel tone about the words. "He was quite amusing while he lived."  
  
"How dare you mock him so?" Legolas hissed fiercely, twisting his hands from where they were tied behind his back even as more tears of grief threatened to spill over. "How dare you?"  
  
"I dare do anything I please," Harry growled, suddenly unpleasant, backhanding Legolas and pushing him to the ground when Legolas swayed, stunned. He planted both hands on either side of Legolas's head, licking the trail of blood that leaked from the corner of Legolas's mouth.  
  
"What are you going to do now?" Legolas asked him quietly. "Will you force me as you would have Haldir?"  
  
Harry studied him for a long while. "No," he said finally, no emotion whatsoever on his face or in his tone. "I will not force you. I am not like you are." He got to his feet, dusting off his hands, and, ignoring Legolas lying on the ground, simply walked away.  
  
It took Legolas a moment to get to his feet, his head still ringing from Harry's vicious backhand, weary with grief. His hands were slippery wet with the blood leaking down from where the rope had rubbed his wrists raw. "Haldir," he whispered to the forest, and felt the first drop of rain hit his cheek and slide slowly down his neck. The next hit his back, and before long his clothes were soaked through, his hair clinging to his face and neck, and yet it was a long, long time before he could gather the tattered shreds of his pride and courage and follow Harry's trail out of the forest. The rain and tears mixed and ran down his face as he spoke his oath to the trees. He would not submit, he would not break, and he would never surrender.  
  
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A/N: Woohoo! Finished this on a 14 hour car ride down to visit my brother in Auburn. How cool was that? Went to an Auburn game, and I'm happy to say that they thrashed West Kentucky 45-0.   
  
Ra ra reagle, war damn eagle, kick 'em in the butt, big blue!  
  
I said it's great to be an Auburn tiger, I said it's great to be an Auburn Tiger!  
  
War Eagle, my friends, and I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. 


	10. Low Rider

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Ten: Low Rider  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: I'm starting to feel like I'm writing a middle-earth version of Jerry Springer. But hey, it's fun and hopefully spine-tinglingly awesome. The gratutitous kissing is due to the fact that the Yanks are in the World Series. Enjoy.  
  
Hope you guys don't get annoyed by this, but I like connecting with my loyal friends/fans.  
  
Hiten Mitsurugi Kitsune -- 'course it didn't offend me. I'm getting used to the whole "angry reviews/leave death threats" deal. Hmmm...a happy ending? Perhaps. Perhaps not.   
  
Legolas19 -- well, a'thank you.  
  
Phayze -- you're one of about ten whom i've had tell me the crossover thing. thanks!  
  
Stammpants -- you can't fool me, I know you're april, and you know that I know that I'm not gonna tell you jack squat. Power trip!  
  
Kitta Baby -- weeeellll, it wasn't a joke, but it probably was cruel. Sorry. And I don't do the whole tragedy ending thing.   
  
Duckie -- you work wonders for feeding my bloated ego. *grins*  
  
mango -- awesome. and noooo, s'not a joke....but Harry is quite the little liar, so remember that.  
  
twilight -- Guilty on all charges. And you shall find out what happened to the rest of the party this chapter. Hehehe.  
  
Eaiva le Fay -- no harm done, dearie. I sound like a grandmother. Aaand...well, I guess you'll have to find out soon, won't you?  
  
Holy-Demon -- *grins* I love rabid reviews. They make like, my entire week. Like the theories, but you'll have to wait and see. And thanks for the defense against the ignorant, my knight in shining armor. :)  
  
Jen -- Love the description of Legolas. How true, true.  
  
ME!!!!!!!!! -- Superbulous! That is so cool!  
  
twilight -- alright, my perceptive reviewer. *grins* Sent you an e-mail, so everything should be (relatively) cleared up.   
  
lil_blondie -- yeah, Legolas ain't having such a hot time since the whole blind thing. And don't expect a reprieve anytime soon.  
  
laura/all the australian gals, of whom I am immensely proud to have as part of my international readership -- don't stop reading it! Hope this was fast enough, and I'm really glad you like it!  
  
Oh, and with the whole time thing -- yeah, I made it up. Have no idea how long it would take for a rider to catch up with someone who's not moving. Who cares, doesn't detract from the story. Just sorta -- ignore it. Yes. Ignore it.  
  
Well! That's it, so here's chapter ten: Low Rider. And no, I don't know why I used Low Rider. But it's one of my favorite songs, and somehow, it really, really fit. Yes, I know it's about a truck. Harry the truck. That makes me laugh.  
  
_________________________  
  
"All my friends know the Low Rider  
  
The Low Rider is a little higher."  
  
-- War, "Low Rider"  
  
_________________________  
  
"You've been quiet, Legolas."  
  
Legolas barely flinched at the whip-crack contempt in Harry's voice. Harry turned his head back for a moment from where he sat astride Arod in front of Legolas, dark green eyes and darker ebony hair catching the sun and making him look almost wickedly beautiful.  
  
"Have I finally broken you, love?" He sounded amused.  
  
"Yes, my lord," Legolas answered dully, staring blankly at a tiny lock of black hair that curled at the nape of Harry's neck. Harry laughed at his tone, turning his attention back to their surroundings, and Legolas let his eyes drift to the knife dangling carelessly at Harry's waist. He could almost believe that Harry didn't know that Legolas had worked the knot out of the bonds holding his wrists together. The rope was looped loosely around his wrists now, but only for show. It had taken him a half a day -- since they'd set out from where Haldir had been killed -- to unknot it.   
  
Let Harry believe him defeated. He was a fighter, and he would find a way to fight whatever evil spirit possessed Harry -- it could not be that it had been Harry who'd killed Haldir. It just could not be -- but despite his determination, inside Legolas's mind, a tiny seed of doubt was planted.  
  
_________________________  
  
Damn elvish horses -- was this the fastest they could go! --  
  
Draco heeled the brown mare sharply in her sides and she whickered up at him in annoyance, never breaking her smooth gallop. Grudgingly, he supposed that she had increased her speed, but only by a hair. God, Haldir was already more than a day ahead and he was supposed to catch up on an old horse named Brego? He hissed in irritation, leaning down on the horse until he was almost touching her mane. He had considered riding a horse pretty much the same as riding a broomstick until that morning.   
  
"I'm never going to ride anything alive again the rest of my life," he muttered. Brego gave a snort of approval.  
  
He'd been riding for a good long while, past half a day, perhaps, and he was beginning to feel faint stirrings of worry despite himself.   
  
Earlier, Brego had insisted upon stopping near a small clump of trees, and he'd gotten off the horse and seen blood, and two pieces of rope tied around the trunks of two trees, covered in blood as well. He grudgingly accepted that it could have been Legolas's, but a part of his mind refused to accept that Harry could do something that -- that horrific to anyone.  
  
It was with that thought in mind, that Harry could be suffering at the hands of someone, that he heeled Brego in the sides harder, the searing wind coaxing tiny tears out of his eyes that streamed down his cheeks.  
  
Suddenly, Brego came to a complete stop.  
  
"Goddamn it, you --" he muttered, digging his feet into the horse's flanks. She snorted and refused to move. He did it again, harder, and Draco felt her muscles tense just before she bucked, sending him flying to the ground.  
  
"What the fuck --" His choked, indignant cry as he stood and began to walk after Brego was cut off short when he saw what lay on the ground -- in pieces -- before him. He swayed, pressed a hand to his mouth, and fell to his knees, his stomach cramping violently. "Oh, my God --" he whispered.  
  
______________________________  
  
Legolas's heart was pounding so loud in his ears that it almost seemed impossible that Harry did not hear it. His hands were shaking, his breathing was harsh despite his attempts to calm himself down. He flexed his hands, staring at the knife hanging at Harry's waist.  
  
Harry had begun to nod off only a few hours after the last time they had spoken, and now his head was tipped onto his chest, his breathing slow and steady. Arod plodded along, unconcerned, needing no guidance for the moment. It was the perfect opportunity and yet -- yet Legolas could not forget the last time he'd tried to overpower Harry and get free, back when they had only just left Minas Tirith. How easy it had seemed, just as easy as what he planned to do now.   
  
He felt a faint stirring of apprehension in the pit of his stomach and mourned for the times when he had faced armies of Orcs without a moment of fear. How he had been changed.  
  
Legolas pushed aside his fears with grim determination and carefully slid his hands free of the rope that had been binding his hands before he'd unknotted it, keeping as cautious a watch on Harry as he could for signs of stirring. There were none.  
  
He stretched his hand slowly for the knife, focusing so completely on the task at hand that he never noticed the tiny movements of Harry's body.  
  
"Did you need something, Legolas?" Harry asked darkly without turning.  
  
It was the suddenness of the words and the rush of fear that accompanied them that drove Legolas to stretch his hand the last few inches and grab the hilt of the knife just as Harry began to turn. He slammed his elbow into Harry's throat, driving him to the ground to land on his back. Legolas jumped off the horse and took advantage of Harry's momentary weakness to climb on top of him, managing to pin two slim wrists with one of his hands. Harry hissed and fought wildly. He kneed Legolas in the stomach before Legolas managed to pin Harry's legs down with his own.   
  
It was only when Legolas brought the knife to Harry's throat did Harry finally go deathly still, staring up at Legolas with fury in his eyes.  
  
"You think you can do this to me?" he hissed angrily, twisting his wrists sharply and snarling when the grip of Legolas's hand didn't give. "Pitiful, weak fool -- it didn't work the first time. Put the knife down, and perhaps I shall spare your life." He looked deadly serious. Legolas couldn't find it in himself to care. Every fiber of his being cried out for closure.  
  
  
  
When Legolas didn't speak, Harry tried again, sounding remarkably calm. "Why have you done this?"  
  
"I am going to save you, Harry."  
  
Almost Harry laughed -- Legolas could see it in his face, the sudden amusement that overcame his rage. "Save me," he laughed, raising a sardonic eyebrow, and Legolas felt tense muscles relax under him as Harry shifted. "From what? I had thought it was you who needed to be saved, Legolas."  
  
"From whatever is possessing you."  
  
This time Harry did laugh. He threw his head back and laughed, ignoring as the knife scraped against his skin. "Possessing me!" he gasped. "Oh, but I am glad that I decided not to kill you, Legolas. You are far too entertaining." His laughter died down into tiny little chuckles. He twisted his legs a bit under Legolas's own. "And how are you planning to do this?"  
  
Legolas began to feel doubtful. He hadn't thought farther than simply getting the knife and getting Harry off the horse -- he'd taken the opportunity, but he was starting to regret it.   
  
"Why must you keep insisting that you are doing this all of your own free will?" he snapped, beginning to feel annoyed. "I know that it is not you who killed Haldir. I am not fooled."  
  
Harry managed to shrug guilelessly. "What can I do to convince you?" he mused thoughtfully, searching Legolas's eyes with his own green ones. Suddenly he smiled, tilting his head back and baring the smooth pale skin of his throat, and despite himself the knife shook in Legolas's hand and nicked Harry's skin. "I know," he said, stretching his neck back farther. "Cut my throat, as it happened before, and see if there is truly a spirit inhabiting me. Do it."  
  
"I will not," Legolas snapped, and Harry sighed as if disappointed, but a light of satisfaction was in his eyes.   
  
There was a moment of tense silence and then Harry grinned, staring up at Legolas, and he craned his head, ignoring the knife cutting a thin line into his throat as he did so. Legolas fought the urge to lean back. "It's such a shame, Legolas," he whispered, the green of his eyes intense upon Legolas's own, "that I will have to kill you once this is over. You were such a sweet diversion." Harry's gaze finally left Legolas's eyes, traveling up and down his body until Legolas almost had to shift, uncomfortable. Harry grinned. "Rather like Haldir, just before he died."  
  
Legolas's breath caught roughly in his throat with a slight choking sound. "You -- you cannot mean that you --" He was cut off by sharp laughter.  
  
"Oh, yes, I most certainly did, Legolas," Harry said. "He was almost as sweet as you were." His smile showed entirely too many teeth.  
  
Legolas's gaze began to go red in fury. "You said that you did not --"  
  
Harry blinked. "Did I?" he asked innocently, pretending to think. "Yes, I remember what I said now. But I did not take him entirely by force. No, Legolas, it took only a bit of -- persuading -- before Haldir became rather less unwilling than you believe."  
  
Legolas growled under his breath and held Harry's hands together tighter, his hand not pinning Harry's wrists holding the knife closer against Harry's throat. "How dare you even suggest it," he nearly hissed. Harry somehow managed to shrug, even pinned as he was.  
  
"I don't know what else you want me to tell you but the truth, Legolas. Haldir was quite the wanton." His gaze turned cold, calculating. "But I'm sure you know that better than I, don't you?"  
  
The knife at Harry's throat shook violently.   
  
"So you were lovers."  
  
"Do not disgrace his memory so," Legolas whispered, but it was more a plea than a demand now, despite himself. And Valar help him, but even as Harry taunted him, he could not seem to ignore the bunching of Harry's muscles beneath his own and the silky feel of Harry's wrists in his hand. It took the strongest of will to keep his eyes from drifting down to where the white of the tunic met the smooth tan of Harry's chest.   
  
Harry saw his eyes lower and he smiled, letting his head fall back onto the ground with a laugh and looking up at Legolas heatedly through long, long lashes. He twisted his wrists in Legolas's grip and made the action somehow lascivious. "You should have seen him," Harry murmured, a tiny half-smile curling the corner of his lip. "He was beautiful -- perhaps not so beautiful as you, but I made a promise not to take you against your will, didn't I?" The half-smile grew into a smirk. "Do you want to know whose name he screamed when he came, right before I put the knife into his throat?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
It came out shaky and hoarse, pleading, but with a note of steel underneath it that Legolas hadn't even known he'd had. Legolas's breath was coming in a short staccato now, his heart pounding hard against his chest. He had to fight the urge to drive the knife -- the one that Harry had most likely killed Haldir with -- right into Harry's grinning face.  
  
"I'll give you a hint," Harry whispered. "It was yours."  
  
"Shut up," Legolas snarled, removing the knife from Harry's throat and slashing him across the cheek with it instead, even as his hand trembled with the need to cut Harry's throat instead. He felt a rush of dark satisfaction that caught him by surprise; the lust for violence and vengeance almost made him do it again, and he had to concentrate on reversing the hilt in his grip to keep from using the blade.   
  
Blood blossomed on Harry's skin from the cut and ran down his face onto the ground, and Harry looked up at Legolas with huge, betrayed eyes that made Legolas's breath catch in his throat, an apology on his lips; made the exhilaration of violence disappear from Legolas's mind so abruptly it felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.  
  
And then Harry laughed.  
  
"Pathetic, Legolas." Harry rolled his eyes and then rolled his hips, wringing an involuntary gasp from Legolas's lips. He clenched his teeth together, determined not to make another sound. "I would have gone through with it."  
  
"Do you wish me to?" Legolas hissed through his teeth, bringing the knife to Harry's temple. "Let me assure you that I would be more than willing." The lie came easy off his lips -- perhaps because it contained a bit more truth than he would have liked. Harry looked up at him with eyes gone large and dark.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Legolas. Didn't meant to make you upset." Harry paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, licking the bit of blood that had trickled onto his lower lip off with the tip of his tongue. "Wait, no. I did mean it."  
  
Legolas bared his teeth and clutched the handle of the knife so hard that his knuckles began to ache. There was wetness on Legolas's cheeks and he hated it, refusing to give up either his hold on Harry's wrists or the knife at Harry's temple to wipe the tears away. Harry grinned, a strange look on his face. There was conflict in his eyes of a sort -- they were somehow both trapped and exultant, fearful and sanguine. It was -- unnerving.   
  
Even with Legolas's knife at his temple, Harry managed to lean up and press soft lips to Legolas's own. His tongue slipped into Legolas's mouth; Legolas let out a tiny moan despite his efforts, forgetting about the look in Harry's eyes, and felt Harry smile into the kiss. The knife dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers as Harry ground his hips up into Legolas's and deepened the kiss, and without thinking Legolas brought his other hand off of Harry's wrists and into Harry's hair.  
  
They both froze as Legolas realized what he had done. Harry smiled slowly, glancing over at the knife lying on the ground next to his throat, looking back at Legolas slyly. Legolas grit his teeth when Harry reached over and took the knife in one hand, expecting any minute to feel the sharp blade against his neck.  
  
Instead, Harry let out a throaty laugh, and one hand came up to cup his cheek while the other wrapped around his back, pulling him tighter until they were flush up against each other. The hilt of the knife handle dug into Legolas's shoulderblade.   
  
"It was a good try," Harry murmured silkily against Legolas's lips. The hand on Legolas's cheek traced down to gently half-encircle Legolas's throat instead, pressing inwards just a bit so that Legolas's racing pulse was steady on his palm. Harry laughed when Legolas shut his eyes and trembled. He had never in his life felt so young and frightened. He couldn't seem to get the feeling of the torture the night before Haldir had died out of his mind, his back tingling with the remembrance of old wounds, the sound of his own cries and Harry's laughter seeming to ring loud in his ears. He didn't resist when Harry rolled Legolas on his back and stood, gazing down at Legolas with a mix of contempt and amusement. Legolas made no move to stand. He was shaking so badly that he wasn't sure he could, had he tried.  
  
"I had to try," Legolas said quietly, voice surprisingly steady. It took effort to keep it that way, took effort not to flinch when Harry laughed.  
  
"Did you?" Harry asked. "You already knew the answers. You wasted a good ten minutes of my life with your nonsense." He paused, inspecting his fingernails, glancing towards the horizon and looking as if he had not a care in the world. Legolas carefully got to a sitting position, watching Harry all the while. He glanced at the horse. Perhaps...  
  
Harry saw where his attention was and grinned. "Try it," he mocked. "I always enjoy a good chase."   
  
"What do you want from me?" he asked, and he honestly did not know the answer -- other than his pain and humiliation and death.  
  
"I want you to --" Harry began, and then stopped, closing his eyes for a moment and pressing a hand to his temple. His lips were pressed together tightly, and when he opened his eyes again, he looked annoyed. "Was there anything else you wanted, so that we can avoid something like this again?"  
  
Legolas paused, and suddenly a thought came to him. "Were there -- I mean, what did you do with the guards that traveled with Haldir? He could not have started out from Minas Tirith alone." He saw the smile that Harry was fighting to keep back, and a nasty knot of horror grew in his middle. "You could not have --"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Would you really like to know what I did with them?"  
  
_________________________  
  
Never in his life had he seen so much blood. God, what had Legolas done to them?  
  
Draco stared down at the bodies lying on the ground before him, pools of blood spreading around the six dead men almost to Draco's boots, if men they could still be called, dismembered as they were. Draco saw what was piled on top of one of the men's head and shuddered. There were parts lying around that Draco had never wanted to see. The thought that Harry was in the hands of someone capable of doing something as horrific as this -- what if he came upon them too late, and all that would be left of Harry would be what Legolas had done to these six men --  
  
He wasn't sure how long he stood, staring down at the bodies in something of a trance, before a soft muzzle nudged his arm. He jumped, turning to find Brego standing before him. "What?" he whispered, suddenly exhausted. Brego snorted and turned, cantering off, and Draco tiredly followed him, feet feeling filled with lead.  
  
Draco heard a faint sound and stopped. It was a sound that should have never been heard from anyone -- quiet crying; but not desperate, just as if all hope had been lost.   
  
"Hello?" he called out cautiously and the sobbing stopped abruptly. "Is anyone there?" he asked, feeling foolish, beginning to think it had only been his imagination when he heard it again.  
  
"Please --"  
  
"Haldir!" Draco whispered, and then louder: "Haldir!" He ran towards the sound of the faint crying that had began again, and finally saw a mass of shining blonde hair at the base of a tree. He skidded to a stop and took in a sharp breath, feeling sick.  
  
Haldir twisted his hands in the ropes that held his hands together behind his back and looked up at Draco through dirty strands of hair. One of his eyes was swollen shut and an ugly bruise marked the other side of his face. Patches of skin showed all over his body from where the clothing was ripped and torn off, and in those places, cuts and bruises stood out on the pale skin. He looked -- bruised. Bruised and demoralized. It was clear in his eyes that he had not been treated well. His bottom lip was swollen and oozing blood. Draco reached a hand for it and Haldir flinched from his touch, and Draco froze.  
  
"I am sorry --" Haldir said, voice hoarse, and coughed.   
  
"It's okay," Draco said gently and reached around Haldir to untie the knots in the rope. Haldir flexed his hands when they were free, and Draco saw a faint trembling that traveled up his arms. Haldir noticed a second too late, clenching his fists to still them. "What happened?"  
  
Haldir let out a short little bark of laughter and curled his knees up to his chest. "Valar, I don't know," he whispered. "He was furious -- I cannot figure out why. He just kept telling me that I almost killed Legolas --"  
  
"Wait!" Draco felt suddenly dizzy and had to reach out a hand on the tree trunk to steady himself. "Who did this to you?"  
  
Haldir looked up at him as if he were daft. "Harry," he said cautiously, and blinked when Draco slammed his hand against the tree.   
  
Harry had done it. Harry had killed the guards, had hurt Haldir, had kidnapped Legolas. Harry, the one who had always gotten mad at Draco when he'd bully the first-years. Draco He shuddered. How could Harry have done it?   
  
  
  
"Draco?" Haldir whispered, sounding weak, and Draco was suddenly reminded of the blood covering Haldir's body and the way he held himself that hinted of broken ribs.   
  
"What did he do to you?" Draco murmured, eyes fixed on Haldir's bruised face, trying to imagine Harry doing such a thing -- and failed. "Did he --" Draco could not finish the sentence.  
  
"No," Haldir said quickly. "He did nothing like that. He seemed like he would -- but he did not." He fell silent, gazing down at the ground fixedly, his hair a tangled mass covering his face.   
  
"We have to get you back to Minas Tirith," Draco said.   
  
Haldir suddenly looked up, a fierce look on his face, clenching his fists. "No," he ground out. "You do not know what Harry has done to Legolas -- what he will do. We must go after them."  
  
"You're dying, you idiot," Draco snapped. "We can't just ride off into the sunset. You have to go back and see a healer."  
  
"I will not."  
  
"I'll make you."  
  
At that Haldir seemed to deflate, falling in upon himself and sighing. "Fine," he said quietly. "But you have to promise that we will stay no more than two days. No more than two days," he said, and didn't seem to realize that he'd repeated himself. His split lip was beginning to bleed in earnest from his exertion, and his voice was getting more and more hoarse.  
  
"No more," Draco agreed quietly and reached out a hand. Haldir stared at it for a moment before lifting his own arm and grasping Draco's hand cautiously and letting Draco pull him to his feet. He swayed for a moment before Draco slid a careful arm around his waist to keep him steady. Draco felt Haldir tense. "Relax," he murmured, staring at Haldir's profile without quite realizing why. "I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
"I know," Haldir said, but he sounded doubtful. Draco helped him walk slowly back to where Brego stood patiently, but his mind was on other things -- that somehow, the fact that Harry being hurt was somehow better than Harry hurting Legolas.   
  
God -- how had it all gone so wrong?  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: I can't believe you thought I'd kill off Haldir. *grins* I must have been convincing! Wonderful! *is pleased*  
  
Hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Make sure you leave a review for me, okay? I love reading them. 


	11. Perfection and Dust

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Eleven: Perfection and Dust  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: First off, v. sorry this chapter took so long. I got busy with newspaper deadlines/schoolwork/life. That, and I have a tendency to get really lazy. This same thing happened about the exact same time through Shadow of a Doubt -- but I'll make it through. Just forced myself to write and that was that. So sorry bout this. :)  
  
Let me see here -- what else? Nothing, really. I don't know where this quote came from, but it was given to me by a friend. If you find out where it's from, tell me so I can give them credit.  
  
Oh, and thank you thank you THANK YOU to stardust fawkes. You rule, and are officially the master of advice. I bow to your superior wisdom and just all around coolness.  
  
Here's your first look into Harry's psyche. Will it answer any of your burning questions? ...Probably not, and it's not supposed to. But feel free to make all the assumptions you want -- there are some (hopefully) subtle and tricky hints in there. :) Plus, there is nothing I love to write more than a weird, cruel Harry. It's a vice.  
  
WARNING: quite a bit of violence, of the non-sexual kind. And I mean it, too. You'll know it when you get there. Sorry in advance, but it was necessary.   
  
Well, that's it! Thanks so much for all the reviews, I loved them. I loved them! Give me more and I love you even more! (...no, that's not a bribe...)  
  
__________________________  
  
"My heart lies somewhere between perfection and dust. And while my soul is a sight to behold, I shatter at the blink of an eye."  
  
-- Anonymous?  
  
__________________________  
  
"Legolas."  
  
Legolas blinked, awakened from his healing sleep, and stared blankly down at the ground passing by underneath Arod's swift feet, feeling strangely -- empty.  
  
"Wake up!" Harry sounded more irritated now. Legolas tried to raise his head from where it laid on Harry's back, his forehead pressed into Harry's neck, but he couldn't seem to find the energy or the will; he blinked again, and the world spun sickeningly. He tried to say Harry's name, tried to say anything at all, but all that escaped his lips was an incoherent, breathy whimper. A scab on his cheek cracked when he moved his lips, and he felt the blood trickle past the corner of his mouth and slowly down his neck.  
  
"Still weak from last night's lesson, love?" Harry asked, stroking Legolas's cheek fondly, laughing when Legolas flinched. "I told you not to try and escape. I told you. You just didn't listen." Harry traced Legolas's lips with an almost startling gentleness. "Now, I need you to look. What is that?"  
  
Legolas bit his lip and tried to raise his head again, but he could only manage to lift it weakly before it lolled back forward onto his chest. Harry sighed and lifted Legolas's chin with two fingers until he could see what lay on the horizon. His eyes widened.  
  
"Valar," he whispered in a choked, raspy voice, his breath coming in panicky gasps, and he had to part his lips slightly to get enough air. Harry laughed.  
  
"We're there, aren't we? The Gray Havens." Harry regarded the town with an amused glance, his eyes gone large-pupiled and wide. "And they haven't the slightest idea of what's coming."  
  
_________________________  
  
"You know, I always knew Harry was kind of crazy. Do you want to know why?"  
  
Haldir's head lolled back onto Draco's shoulder, his expression slack and peaceful in sleep. A tiny prick of fear made Draco take his hands off the reins and shake Haldir's shoulders urgently. Haldir's head sagged forward as if his neck was too weak to support it, his hair falling and hiding his face. Draco shook his shoulders again, harder, his breathing loud in his own ears.  
  
  
  
"Come on, Haldir, I need you to stay with me, love." His voice shook slightly, betraying his growing unease at Haldir's unnatural deep sleep, and he would have been ashamed had anyone been around -- or awake -- to hear it.   
  
Haldir's head rose slightly and Draco saw his eyelashes flutter.  
  
"What is it?" Haldir asked, voice hoarse and slow, as if he had difficulty getting the words out. Draco was beginning to suspect a mild concussion. Instead of answering right away, Draco turned Haldir's head with his hand and placed a small kiss on Haldir's bruised lips that Haldir received with sleepy acceptance; Draco realized with a wry smirk that there were a few good things about Haldir and concussions, and getting away with a few stolen kisses seemed to be one of them. He took his hand off Haldir's cheek and smiled gently; the gesture almost hurt, it was so unfamiliar to him.  
  
"We're almost to Minas Tirith," he said, talking slowly, "and I need you to stay awake for me. Please." He saw Haldir nod his head, murmur a faint acceptance. Draco smiled sincerely again -- it was a bit easier, the second time -- and twisted back around in his saddle.  
  
"Why -- are we going there?" Haldir asked fuzzily, playing with the edges of Draco's tunic with two of his fingers. Draco drew a sharp breath when Haldir's finger grazed the skin of his waist.  
  
"You're a bit banged up," he managed, and it made it a bit easier to concentrate when Haldir withdrew his hand. "We're almost there, I promise. Look, can't you see it? Just there." Not even sure if Haldir could see clearly or not, he pointed to the shining city not a mile ahead of them, trying to keep his mind off of Haldir's hot breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine.  
  
"Have I ever told you about my future wife?" Haldir asked in a strange, dreamy sort of voice. Draco's throat closed up and his heart did a strange sort of jump in his chest.   
  
"No, you haven't," he managed. Whatever it took to keep Haldir awake. "What -- what is her name?"  
  
Haldir let out a short sigh against Draco's shoulderblade. "She is beautiful," he sighed. "Her name is Thaliephel, one of Galadriel's handmaidens. More beautiful than Galadriel herself. Long, black hair and the strangest color eyes -- a funny sort of gray --" He sounded as if he were drifting again into sleep, so Draco gave him a subtle elbow under his ribs to urge him on.   
  
"And?"  
  
"And what?" Haldir asked, sounding annoyed. Draco sighed, staring at the gleaming white peaks of Minas Tirith and wishing that he was there already, wishing that Haldir would come out of the concussed, delirious state of mind he'd gradually slipped into.  
  
"Where is she now?"  
  
Haldir shifted in his seat, almost draping himself on Draco's back, exhaling tiredly. "At the Gray Havens," he murmured. "How I wish I were there."   
  
_________________________  
  
It was almost contemptible, the way elves had gotten so complacent and laid back after the defeat of Sauron. It almost seemed an affront, somehow, but he couldn't figure out why. All he knew was that, when he saw the lone elvish guard standing watch outside the town, looking alert but slightly bored, it was almost enough to make his blood boil.  
  
He felt Legolas's tears on his shoulder, soaking through the cloth of his light shirt, and smiled.   
  
"Please, Harry." He could barely make out the breathless, broken words from behind him. "You do not have to do this --"  
  
Harry smiled pleasantly while waving to the guard on duty in front of the town. The guard nodded smartly back and walked forward towards them. "But I do, Legolas," he said quietly out of the corner of his mouth. "I haven't got a ship. How can I get to Valinor without a ship?" He shook his head, annoyed, when a few more tears dripped onto his shirt. It was almost a shame -- he remembered when he'd come to Middle-earth at first, how silent and emotionless Legolas had been; he had admired it. And now that same elf was broken, bleeding, crying on his shoulder. Contemptible.  
  
The guardian elf was almost near the horse now, his delicate brow furrowed in worry as he took in Legolas's injuries and listing gaze with velvet brown eyes. Harry almost had to repress a smirk. "He is injured grievously," the guard said when he finally stood next to the horse, reaching up to lay a gentle hand on Legolas's thigh, frowning when the muscle jumped under his hand and Legolas made a soft noise of protest. The guard took his hand away quickly, and his eyebrows raised as he took in the blood staining his palm.  
  
"Oh, yes," Harry said softly, "very grievously." He swung down from the horse and without his support Legolas fell forward a bit until his head rested on the horse's mane. From on the ground, Harry could see the blood soaking through the soft white of Legolas's shirt. He turned to face the guard.   
  
"We should get him to Cirdan immediately." The guard wasn't even paying attention to Harry, not really, all his attention focused on Legolas, and it was almost too easy for Harry to ease his hand down to his side and grip the hilt of the knife hanging there.   
  
"We should," Harry agreed and plunged a knife through the elf's chest. The elf's gentle eyes became almost laughably wide and he reached for his own knife; Harry didn't give him the chance, pulling out the knife and punching it back through in one smooth motion. The elf hung there, impaled, blood bubbling up and oozing down his chest and out of his mouth. He was fairly pretty, in an ethereal sort of way, and he looked achingly young. It made a part of Harry's stomach twist in something that he didn't like to identify, something that felt a little bit like pity. He heard Legolas give a startled, horrified cry from behind him and smiled. Legolas wouldn't be intervening with his play -- Harry had made certain of that the night before.  
  
"What was your name, again?" Harry asked amicably. The elf was beginning to shake now, his skin turning a sickly shade of gray.  
  
"P-palahuan," he stuttered in a breathy, whimpering tone that made Harry smile.  
  
"God, but those Orcs came out of nowhere, didn't they, Palahuan?" he asked, watching as the young elf's eyes widened even more in horror and understanding, lips white save for the blood. He was moments away from dying. Harry gave the knife a minute twist and the elf gasped in pain, eyes drifting to Legolas's trembling form.  
  
"You -- did t-that," he got out.  
  
"I did," Harry agreed pleasantly enough. "Goodbye, Palahuan." He yanked the knife out savagely, barely backing up in time to miss the spurt of blood that followed the knife out of the elf's body even as Palahuan crumpled. The lovely brown eyes were blank in death; Harry's stomach did a funny sort of lurch, and for reasons he didn't know, he bent down to smooth the elf's silky blonde hair out of the unseeing brown eyes.  
  
"You -- monster --" Legolas whispered in a voice that held misery and betrayal and horror, and Harry straightened, on a swift track to irritation.   
  
"I don't have the time to punish you, Legolas," Harry said, turning around and regarding Legolas with a steely gaze; the stark, unthinking fear in Legolas's eyes sent a jolt of dark, lustful fire through his veins. He stalked closer to the horse, watching as Legolas struggled to sit up and not lean, vulnerable, on Arod's neck; he placed a deliberate hand on Legolas's thigh, feeling the trembling flesh under his fingertips and somehow both saddened and delighted.   
  
For a moment, utter revulsion for what he was about to do -- what he had already done -- blanketed his mind in one all-encompassing emotion and he abruptly bent over, his stomach turning at the smell of blood on his hands, on Legolas's body. He had to fight not to vomit.  
  
"Harry?" Legolas asked timidly.   
  
"How can you be worried for me?" Harry exploded suddenly without a thought why, stabbing an accusing finger in Legolas's dirty, surprised face. "You idiot, I almost kill you and you're still worried for me?"   
  
Legolas's brows furrowed for a moment before -- for some reason that Harry envied -- a look of almost complete peace came over his face, and he relaxed, staring at Harry with acceptance.  
  
"Because I love you."  
  
Harry's stomach clenched violently, and for a moment he was assaulted by a wave of revulsion and fear; the world went alarmingly blurry and then dark, and for just a second he was overtaken with the notion that what he was about to do was so wrong that he'd never be forgiven, that the loss of life for this purpose was not what he intended to do.  
  
A seed of evil.  
  
Harry's hands went up to his temples at the blinding pain that suddenly invaded his mind, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He shook his head. "A seed of evil," he moaned, falling to his knees. "A plague on this earth -- elves -- oh god, please." It felt as if knives were being driven through his eyesockets and into his skull, drilling into his brain, demanding compliance.  
  
Then suddenly the pain was gone and he was staring straight up into Legolas's beautiful concerned eyes.   
  
"You got off the horse," he whispered.  
  
"I did," Legolas said, his voice steady and calm, though he was trembling with pain, and sweat made hair stick to his neck and face. Harry smirked.  
  
"What a waste."  
  
He swung the knife handle into Legolas's temple and Legolas crashed to the ground, unconscious. Harry shook himself a little and got back to his feet. He stared down at Legolas's form, chewing on his lip in indecision.  
  
"That won't keep you out for long, knowing elves," he muttered to himself. "A half hour, tops. Long enough for me to get what I need, get rid of what I don't." He smiled and hoisted Legolas back onto the horse, grunting with the effort. Picking up the reins, lying on the ground, he tugged it and starting running in the direction of the town.  
  
"Help me!" he shouted. "There's been an attack! Help me, please!" He drew out his wand from his right side, opposite from where the knife had hung, and smirked.   
  
Four elves ran out of the town's gate almost immediately, searching the plains with keen eyes. Their eyes landed simultaneously on Legolas and Harry, and they drew arrows and fitted them to bows. Harry waved his hand frantically, putting a limp into his run, wiping the smile off his face.  
  
"T-they got the guard," he shouted, making his voice tight with pain. "They almost killed my friend. I barely escaped with my life -- it was a surprise attack --" They lowered their bows, still suspicious, but one of them noticed Legolas's limp form upon Arod and gasped.  
  
"Legolas Thranduilion!" he said, and the other elves's eyes widened imperceptibly.   
  
"We must get you inside!" another one of the elves said and tried to take the reins from Harry. Harry felt his eyes narrow and he jerked the reins to his chest, a not-quite-false feeling of protection making him hiss at the elf.  
  
"Don't."  
  
The elf paused, and nodded, his eyes darting from Legolas's face to Harry's and making assumptions that were probably not entirely untrue.  
  
"Take them to Cirdan, Earendur," a black-haired elf said shortly, his eyes scanning the plain again. "I will gather a group of elves to search for these rogue Orcs. They will not escape."   
  
The elf who had tried to take Arod nodded, his composure regained, and turned. "Follow me," he said, already beginning to walk back into the town. The three other elves ran gracefully in before him.  
  
The walk was made in complete silence, with the other elf casting cool green-eyed glances back to Harry once every few minutes; the town was picturesque, green grass growing in between the small houses, trees sprouting almost everywhere. It smelled faintly of the Sea.  
  
They were passing in between two quaint houses when Harry saw an elf emerge out of one of the doors. He was tall, taller than most of the elves Harry had ever encountered, with long hair and wise, blue eyes, beautiful enough to make Harry's lips go dry. He exuded an air of wisdom. Harry knew immediately who he was.  
  
"Cirdan!" Earendur called out, and the elf turned to face them, his expression impassive yet warm.   
  
"Earendur," Cirdan greeted pleasantly, his sharp, knowing gaze taking in both Harry and Legolas in one sweep, and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Cirdan knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was going to do. "What seems to be amiss, mellon-nin? I have seen a good number of elves leaving the town and heading east. Where do they go?"  
  
"There was an Orc attack, my lord," the elf said, sketching a short bow, glancing at Legolas. "This is Legolas Thrandulion of Mirkwood. He was injured in the attack, and Palahuan was killed. We have scouts looking for them now."  
  
"Legolas," Cirdan murmured, stepping foward, reaching a hand up to brush Legolas's hair off of his sweaty forehead. His gaze lowered and found Harry's eyes. "And who might you be?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"Cirdan, where is everyone going?"  
  
The musical voice stopped Harry immediately. A maiden -- an elf maiden. Somehow, he'd forgotten that there would have to be women and children at the Gray Havens. He didn't know how he could have forgotten such a crucial fact . He watched, a bit stunned, as the tall, slender maiden marched up to Cirdan, her long black hair waving slightly in the wind, her generous lips pursed in worry or annoyance. Her eyes caught the light, and Harry almost started; they were the strangest shade of gray --   
  
"My apologies," the maiden said suddenly, those strange eyes taking in Harry and Legolas both. "I have forgotten my manners in my haste. I am Thaliephel. Who are you?" Her question was more curt than Cirdan's, more impatient.   
  
Harry bowed, his stomach doing funny sorts of turns. Women and children. "I am Harry."  
  
"Just Harry?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.   
  
"Yes," Harry said softly. "Just Harry."   
  
"Oh," she said, and then: "You have the most unusual eyes. They are very beautiful." Then she blinked at him, as if surprised at her own response. He clenched his wand tighter in his fist, and for some reason his eyes were burning; he refused to acknowledge the burning as tears.  
  
"A seed of evil," he mumbled under his breath, and Thaliephel frowned and leaned closer.   
  
"What did you say?"   
  
Cirdan had a strange, accepting expression on his face.. Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Cirdan's throat. Thaliephel and Earendur made no move to stop him, staring as if transfixed. Cirdan looked at him steadily.  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
Cirdan crumpled to the ground gracefully, beautiful even in death, looking as if he had fallen asleep. Earendur whirled to face him while Thaliephel went to her knees with a cry. "What have you done?" the elf cried, drawing his knife and lunging blindly for Harry. Harry calmly drew his own knife in his left hand and drove it into the elf's stomach, staring coolly as the elf fell to the ground, writhing silently in pain. Thaliephel stared up at him with wide, beautiful gray eyes.  
  
He turned and strolled away.  
  
He walked into the the first house he came to and threw open the door, bloody knife in one hand and his wand in the other. Inside the front room was a small elf child, looking to be about four, and who Harry assumed to be her older brother. The brother looked up as he entered and the elf's eyes widened; Harry could only imagine what he looked like, sweat and blood smeared across his face.   
  
"Nelothwen!" the elf called in desperation, reaching over and grabbing the small girl-child's hand, yanking her back to what he assumed was safety. Harry smiled grimly when the elf grabbed a sword that had been sitting on the table and held it out in front of him, obviously a bit too young to have any experience. Harry batted it away with his smaller knife like it was nothing. The elf barely had time to utter a plea before Harry slashed the knife across his stomach viscously and the elf fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach, trying desperately to hold the spilling organs in his body.  
  
The small elf girl looked up at Harry with huge, innocent blue eyes, twisting the hem of her skirt between two small, grubby fingers. Harry stared back down at her, at the tips of her pointed ears, and raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra." She fell like a stone, her dress soaking up her brother's blood.  
  
Harry stood over her body for a long time before he left the house.  
  
He visited every other house systematically, silently. He would have expected Thaliephel to raise the alarm, but she knelt silently over Cirdan's body; every time he came out of a house she was still kneeling there, her hands covering her face, shoulders shaking slightly.   
  
The children were the hardest. He used a curse for those; they didn't know what was coming, then. Somehow, it didn't make it any easier afterwards, when he was looking into their staring, accusing eyes, blank with the sleep of death.  
  
The older elves, male and female, he slaughtered like animals.   
  
He emerged from the last house covered in blood, face an expressionless mask, and started back for the center of the town where he had left his horse. He hoped beyond hope that Thaliephel was gone. He rounded a corner and his eyes narrowed.  
  
Legolas was awake and off his horse. He and Thaliephel were hugging tightly over Cirdan's motionless body, tears streaming down both their faces. They were beautiful in their grief. It made Harry's fists clench and his heart ache.  
  
Thaliephel saw him first and jumped to her feet, pulling a dazed Legolas up with her and guarding him with her own body.  
  
"Stay back," she hissed, baring her teeth when Harry didn't do as she commanded. He walked forward slowly, his eyes trained on Legolas's own. Legolas held his chin up high, but he had a definate exhausted slump to his stance, and Harry could see a faint trembling traveling up his body.   
  
"Leave now, and I will spare your life," he said softly. She shook her head and glared.  
  
"You will not hurt Legolas Thranduilion!"   
  
Harry sighed, flexing his hand around the knife hilt, and Legolas must have seen something murderous in his eyes, because he flung Thaliephel to the ground and stood over her protectively.  
  
"Do not, Harry," he said hoarsely, his blue eyes pleading more expressively with Harry then any wordy supplication. "Haldir will -- Harry, you must not, please! Please." Thaliephel got to her feet slowly.  
  
"Get out of my way, Legolas," Harry said quietly, starting foward again, and a dark part of Harry's mind savored the way Legolas's eyes became a bit more liquid blue with fear.  
  
When Legolas tried to move in front of Thaliephel again, Harry placed his wand hand on Legolas's shoulder and easily knocked him to the ground, as weakened as he was. Thaliephel stood alone, shaking but standing her ground.  
  
She gasped when the cold metal slid into her stomach smoothly, and when Harry pulled the knife out her hands flew to to the wound. Blood spilled over her fingers and dripped to the ground, and she slowly fell to her knees, bowing her head as if in prayer. He heard Legolas's anguished sob from behind him but largely ignored it, focused instead on the suffering, dying beauty of Thaliephel. After what seemed like hours she fell foward with a soft thump onto the red-stained grass.  
  
A moment later Legolas flew into his side, knocking him to the ground. He smirked. He had wondered when Legolas would get his spirit back. It seemed like he hadn't had long to wait after all.  
  
"You -- you -- murdering --" Legolas hissed, unable to get words out in his fury, catching the side of Harry's cheek with a blow from a fist. Harry's head snapped to the side, his face burning.  
  
"We seem to get into this situation a lot, Legolas," Harry sighed. "It really is quite hopeless. After all, it's not like anyone is left alive to help you."  
  
That made Legolas pause in his blind rage. "No one?" he ventured, his voice trembling. Harry nodded, smiling.   
  
"No one," he agreed. Legolas sat back, letting Harry up, staring at the grass in disbelief.   
  
"The children?"  
  
Harry's lips thinned in anger for just a moment before he relaxed, hauling Legolas up by his shoulder. Legolas cried out in surprised hurt when Harry's fingers pressed into an angry open wound. "Get on the horse and come with me."  
  
"Why?" Legolas asked softly, staring into Harry's eyes from beneath his lowered lashes. On anyone else Harry would have thought it was contrived, seductive, but on Legolas it was a look of pure innocence and hurt. He placed a forceful, almost brutal kiss on Legolas's lips, and Legolas opened them without a word of protest. When he pulled back finally, there was blood smeared across the milky paleness of Legolas's skin and the pink of his lips. Harry smirked to see the hint of tears remaining in Legolas's eyes.  
  
"I think I have found us a ship."  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: Okay, so there wasn't much Haldir and Draco. Next chapter, I promise. Violence took up the good portion of this chapter. Hmm -- I've had this planned for a while now, but it didn't turn out like I thought it would. I rather like it regardless, and I hope you do, too. Leave me a review, okay? And sorry about the horribly long time in between chapters. I know I'm bad. Shame, shame on me. 


	12. Phantasmagoria

Black Eyes  
  
by Capella  
  
Chapter Twelve: Phantasmagoria  
  
A/N: You know, I thought that there was going to be more stuff from Legolas and Harry and Valinor in this chapter, but then Draco and Haldir demanded sex. Damn teenage boy and er, millinia-old elf. Sorry, guys. I mean, Haldir just got hurt. I feel sort of bad for the guy. *shrug* So W00T! It's the BIG smut chapter! Damn the NC-17 restriction! I got as close as I can without fear of getting banned. If you get offended, think about Bad Santa. Much, much worse than this, and it's an R. So there. Pretty sure I'm keeping this within the bounds of an R.  
  
Got the funniest review -- made me laugh, really -- from wanderingwolf. Apparently, he/she is very, very angry that Harry is going around and being a not-very-nice guy, because "harry potter is fascinated and disgusted by death." Also, s/he claims that I am not "allowed" to write Harry Potter in this fashion, because it's in the "implied rules" that I shouldn't. Then s/he says that he hopes s/he hasn't brought my spirits down. Wanderingwolf, if you can't figure out that something is wrong with Harry by now that makes him act this way, I seriously wonder what your malfunction is. Sorry if you feel "violated" because I wrote Harry this way. Don't read it. I personally don't care.  
  
Well, that's it, really. Thanks for hanging in there with me, guys. It's been what, two years since I started writing this series? Amazing. Thanks for all the support. :)  
  
Whew. Very long chapter. Longest I've ever written by a long, long shot. I really hope ya'll like it. It was fun, as always.  
  
__________________________  
  
Phan·tas·ma·go·ria: 1. an exhibition or display of optical effects and illusions  
  
2. a constantly shifting complex succession of things seen or  
  
imagined; a scene that constantly changes  
  
__________________________  
  
"Well, what do you think?" Harry grinned, sounding proud. Legolas glanced at him from the corner of his eye, vision still slightly wavery, and then looked back at the ship. It was beautiful, but small. It looked like the sort that could be sailed by only two people.  
  
When Legolas didn't answer, Harry turned to face him fully, the smile still on his face. Blood liberally dotted his left cheek and lips. Legolas refused to look at him for more than a moment. Valar, but the events of only a few minutes earlier kept playing through his mind -- they wouldn't stop, and all he could manage to see was Thaliephel crumpling slowly to the ground next to Cirdan's body, and all he could manage to hear was the slight, stuttering cry of Palahuan as the knife slid into his body.  
  
He supposed -- even though Harry had said he'd killed Haldir, Legolas had never believed it. He'd never seen Harry kill anyone before, never seen anything but kindness up until only a few days previous. Now he found it hard to doubt that Harry had no compunctions about taking any life he had to -- or wanted to.   
  
Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. Harry peered at him from only a few inches away, his nose almost touching Legolas's own, and Legolas had to resist the urge to either lean forward or lean backward. Harry's eyes were so unnaturally bright.  
  
Harry's eyebrows furrowed and he canted his head to one side, looking honestly perplexed. "I'm not sure I want to hurt you anymore," he said in an almost questioning tone, lifting a hand to gently stroke Legolas's dirty cheek. Legolas was too enthralled by the strange look in Harry's eyes to flinch back. "Why don't I want to hurt you?"  
  
Legolas blinked in sudden startlement as Harry's irises -- flickered. He was so close to Harry that he could see them almost change color entirely, for a moment becoming a bit cloudy before regaining their previous brightness.  
  
The spell was broken when Harry's thumb ran over the split in Legolas's lower lip, and a tiny spark of pain made him move his head back. Harry's hand fell to his side, the studying, curious look still in his eyes. The flickering cloudiness was gone.  
  
"Get on the ship," Harry murmured. His voice was quiet, neutral, and Legolas found himself moving before he even thought about the command. He was halfway up the gangplank when he paused, turning around and looking at his horse.  
  
"Arod?" he asked, and it sounded entirely too much like asking permission for his liking. Harry shrugged casually.  
  
"I'm not sure if we can take a horse with us," he said, his tone nearly apologetic. "I'm afraid that we can only take our supplies." He moved to take the packs from Arod's back and the horse let out a low, distressed whinny, baring her teeth in anger. Harry stopped with his hand outstretched, eyes hardening. Legolas saw his lips move, heard Harry whisper an angry command in an archaic form of Elvish and take the packages from Arod's back. Legolas felt faintly as if he'd been punched in the stomach.  
  
"I did not realize you spoke Elvish," he said carefully. Harry paused, looking at him with mingled confusion and annoyance. He didn't answer, and Legolas continued up onto the ship, each step slower and more reluctant than the last one, until he finally stood in the middle of the ship's small deck.   
  
Legolas sucked in a surprised breath when he felt Harry's arms encircle him from behind, soft fingers gently taking his wrists and bringing them behind his back, followed by the rough touch of rope.   
  
"Harry," Legolas whispered, trying to twist his head around to see Harry's expression as he bound Legolas's wrists. "Harry, you do not have to --"  
  
"I do," Harry murmured, finishing the knot with a last jerk of the rope, his hands lingering a moment and stroking the skin of Legolas's palms gently. Then, suddenly, Harry placed his hands on the backs of Legolas's shoulders and pushed him ungently to the deck of the ship. At the last moment Legolas twisted and managed to land on his back. Harry stared down at him with a strange expression in his clear green eyes, and he sank down to his knees, lifting a hand and placing it on the column of Legolas's neck. Legolas flinched before he could stop himself, expecting some sort of pain or humiliation or worse, but Harry just simply sat there with his hand on Legolas's neck and stared. After a while, the exhaustion that had been gnawing at the edges of Legolas's mind made him close his eyes. He was dangerously close to falling asleep when Harry spoke again.  
  
"You think yourself very unfairly treated, don't you, Legolas?" Harry asked quietly. Legolas opened his eyes with a jerk and glared at Harry, twisting his hands in the ropes that bound him, and did not answer.   
  
Harry finally stood, pulling Legolas upright by the neck of his shirt. Legolas swayed as the wounds on his legs burned fiercely, and he felt the sudden urge to vomit as he caught the coppery smell of blood on Harry's clothing. Somehow he managed to stare Harry in the eyes. Harry's eyes were narrowed and furious, bright green in his anger.  
  
"Do not pretend that your lot is any worse than mine was," Harry hissed in a low, dangerous tone, shaking Legolas for emphasis. "Until I throw you down and whip you, until I invade both your dreams and your body, until I rip off your clothing and take you so hard that you bleed like you'd been stabbed, and then do it again not an hour later --" Harry broke off for a moment, his breaths whistling through clenched teeth that were slightly bared in a snarl. "When that happens, you may cry as much as you like. Until then, do not presume to think yourself wronged."  
  
Legolas felt his eyes grow wider with every accusation. There was a sort of tightness in his chest, feeling strangely enough of guilt. He felt familiar tears spill over his cheeks, leaving hot trails down his face, and Harry used his thumb to wipe them away with no expression at all.   
  
"You cannot hold that against me," Legolas whispered shakily. "I was not myself. You cannot hold that against me."  
  
"Can't I?" Harry growled, pushing Legolas back to the ground. Legolas landed with a thump and stared up at Harry through his eyelashes nervously. "Can you say that you didn't enjoy even a mere second of it? I know you enjoyed hearing me scream, even if it was in pain, and seeing me underneath you, even if it was not willing. Didn't you enjoy my submission? Didn't you --"  
  
"Stop it!" Legolas cried, and quite suddenly realized that he was sobbing so hard that his entire body shook, his breath coming in desperate gasps. Harry had a faint look of satisfaction on his face.  
  
"Can you?" Harry asked quietly, dangerously. Legolas flinched.  
  
"No," he whispered, and realized it was true, though the thought of it gripped him by the throat and near stopped his breathing; he bit his bottom lip until he felt it split under the pressure, and a tiny stream of blood ran down his chin.  
  
"I didn't think so." Harry stared down at him, considering; Legolas ignored him and pressed his back against the side of the ship, drew his knees up to his chest, leaning his forehead against his knees, panting for air as he sobbed.  
  
"Oh, Legolas," Harry sighed, and one of Harry's hands gently stroked Legolas's hair, playing with the braid in his hair, being so gentle that it only managed to coax more tears. "Think of this as your penance for what you did to me. You could have resisted if you wanted to."  
  
Legolas shook his head negatively, too out of breath to speak. He had again the strange feeling that he was younger than his years, much younger, that he was back in his bed after a nightmare and waiting for his father to come and comfort him. Gods, but he wanted that again. He took his head off his knees and looked up at Harry through tear-blurred vision. Harry sighed.  
  
"You could have resisted Sauron, Legolas," he said in a chiding tone. The hand in his hair clutched painfully and suddenly, and Legolas couldn't help a tiny yelp that made Harry smile.   
  
"No, I --" Legolas tried to protest, but his voice was weak with the tears and the memories. Harry acted as if he hadn't spoken.  
  
"Don't you remember that you said you didn't love me?"   
  
Legolas's eyes widened. "Harry, I did not --"   
  
"Don't you remember when you offered me to Sauron?" The hand in Legolas's hair kept up its rhythmic stroking even as that silky smooth voice drew Legolas back into the memories he desperately didn't want to remember. "Don't you remember the first time you cut my clothes off with that knife, the one you used to carve your initials into my hip?"  
  
"Please," Legolas begged through his sobs when Harry paused for a breath, squeezing his eyes shut, his shoulders violently shaking and not caring how pathetic he sounded. "Please, do not say any more. I apologize. I will do anything you want -- just, stop." He was breathing hard when he finished. He didn't think he could have managed to say anything else; he felt as if he would faint any moment, as it was, and he could not figure out if it was from his wounds or Harry's words.  
  
"All right," Harry said after a long pause. "So long as you realize that you haven't got it nearly as bad as you think you do."  
  
Legolas stared up at Harry, looking so beautiful and innocent, part of him agreeing despite himself, but another part remembering Haldir, and Thaliephel, and the first night he had refused to help Harry out of his own free will, the humiliation and the pain and the blood.   
  
"Yes," he agreed quietly, and Harry turned without another word to the wheel, busying himself with trying to figure out how to sail the ship. Legolas let his head lean back onto the side of the ship, his eyes closing despite his unease. But just before he slipped into sleep, he thought he felt a soft kiss pressed onto his forehead.  
  
_________________________  
  
"Sir, you need the king's permission to go into the throne room --"  
  
Draco growled under his breath. "Let me in, goddamn it, or I'll bring this place down on your head and don't you dare think I won't." He glared at the young guard on duty, but he was reluctant to draw his wand and make good his threat; he'd have to put down Haldir first. He held the limp body cradled in his arms closer despite the burn in his muscles.  
  
"Yes, sir," the guard said, seeing the look on Draco's face and perhaps seeing for the first time the bloody elf in his arms. He swung the door open without any more preamble and Draco stormed in as fast as he was able. Haldir's head lolled onto his shoulder, and the elf's eyelashes fluttered slightly.   
  
"Aragorn!" Draco yelled, searching the throne room with his eyes. Empty. Shit. He set Haldir down gently against one of the walls and ran back to the door.  
  
"Where the hell is Aragorn?" Draco asked silkily and dangerously, raising an eyebrow, watching as the guard stuttered and hemmed around an answer. He was in the motion of drawing his wand when there were bootsteps coming down the hall. The guard's face collapsed in relief when Draco's anger was averted.  
  
"Aragorn, Haldir is hurt," Draco said abruptly as soon as the King came around the corner. He ignored the general babble that broke out among Aragorn's advisors at Draco's appearance and outburst. Draco's eye was drawn suddenly to a member of the King's entourage who was not an old and wrinkled advisor; an elf. He was tall and blonde, beautiful, looking almost like --   
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"He's in the throne room," Draco said all in a rush, forgetting about the strange elf, tugging on the sleeve of Aragorn's tunic. "The rest of the search party that went out for Harry and Legolas are dead. And it was --"   
  
"My son!" Suddenly the elf he'd noticed was right in front of his face, gripping the collar of his shirt, staring down at him with a cold and deadly look in his blue eyes that reminded Draco almost of his own father. For not the first time, Draco wished he were taller. "Where is my son?"  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Draco snarled, prying the elf's hands off of his shirt, glaring up at him, slightly affronted. "And why should I know where your son is?"  
  
"Thranduil --" Aragorn said, laying a hand on the elf's blue tunic, but it was shaken off and he was ignored. The elf, Thranduil, stared at him with an almost frightening intensity.  
  
"My son, the crowned Prince Legolas," Thranduil said in a low tone. Draco noticed that the elf had a hand on one of the long knives at his waist. "What have you done with him?"  
  
"I haven't done anything with your goddamn son," Draco growled. "Get out of my way."  
  
"You know where he is," Thranduil persisted, the force of his presence alone keeping Draco from simply walking away. "Tell me where he is." There was an almost pleading tone in the elegant voice, a note of worry that made Draco pity the elf.  
  
"He's gone," Draco said reluctantly. "He and Harry left Minas Tirith a few days ago, and they disappeared to the West. Haldir thinks that they were headed for Valinor. I don't know why."  
  
Thranduil managed to look gracefully confused. "Harry?"   
  
Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Aragorn. "You didn't even tell him about Harry?" Aragorn had the good grace to look the slightest bit chastened. Sort of. Draco sighed.  
  
"His lover, Harry Potter." He almost had to smile at the startled look in Thranduil's eyes. "I don't suppose you two have been introduced."  
  
"Certainly not," Thranduil said, looking faintly poleaxed. "Most certainly not." Suddenly the look in his eyes sharpened and became probing. "You stated that the men searching for my son are dead. Tell me why."  
  
"It was --" Draco paused, biting his lip. It almost physically hurt to say. "It was Harry." At Thranduil's slight gasp, he continued quickly, almost afraid that saying it aloud would make it true. "I think Harry's gone mad, myself. I found the guards myself. Harry attacked Haldir and -- I found places where there was a lot of blood. I think -- I think it was Legolas's."  
  
"By the Valar," Thranduil breathed, his light blue eyes wide. Draco could easily see the family resemblance; it was strange, almost, to be looking in a reflection of Legolas himself.   
  
"I'm sorry," Draco said, and he meant it, which came as a distinct surprise. He started walking back to the throne room, looking behind him at Aragorn, who still stood with his hand comfortingly on Thranduil's arm. "Aragorn, you have to help Haldir. I think he's dying." He hurried ahead without waiting for a response. The guard let him into the throne room without even looking at him this time, a slight satisfaction.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
The unsteady voice made Draco's legs a little faster as he hurried to where Haldir was propped up against the wall, shoulders slumped and breathing slow. Draco crouched down and smoothed the tangled hair away from Haldir's bruised face, tracing soothingly along Haldir's jawline and cheek, trying desperately to keep his heart from pounding straight out of his chest. He became so absorbed with tracing the gentle planes of Haldir's face that it came as a great surprise when Aragorn and Thranduil bent down beside him.  
  
"We must get him to a bed," Aragorn murmured, pressing here and there on Haldir's torso, listening to Haldir's stifled cries of pain with a grim set to his lips that Draco didn't like. "I fear that he has several broken ribs, and worse." Aragorn slid an arm underneath Haldir's legs and around his back, hoisting him up with a grunt and taking off immediately, Thranduil right behind him.  
  
They were turning a corner when Draco suddenly found himself walking with Thranduil right beside him, the elf studying the floor passing under his feet fixedly. "You -- knew my son?"  
  
"I did," Draco said cautiously.  
  
"Do you believe him --" Thranduil seemed to not be able to finish the sentence; he pressed a hand to his mouth, filled with obvious emotion.   
  
Draco grimaced, thinking of his own father for a moment. "I don't think he's dead," he said, and realized a moment after he said it that it might have been a bit tactless. It didn't seem to bother Thranduil, who looked at him for a moment with eyes that seemed a bit less saddened.  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
Draco had to gather his wits for a moment to answer, scattered as they were with thoughts of his father and Haldir and Harry Potter. "I've known Harry for years," he murmured, "and no matter our differences in the past, I do not think he would ever kill anyone. Ever."  
  
Thranduil snorted and it was somehow kingly all the same. "Years," he said derisively. "You mortal children think you know someone after less than a decade. Children, all of you, no matter how old."  
  
Draco glared at him. "Do you want my help to find your son or not?" he growled. Thranduil raised an elegant eyebrow at him.  
  
"Were you offering it?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Thranduil shook his head ruefully. "Then I must accept, on behalf of my son." He was silent for a moment. Draco thought about Thranduil's reaction to his son's relationship and grinned.  
  
"Are you not shocked at finding out the nature of your son's relationship?" he asked, startled when Thranduil chuckled.  
  
"I should have known when you mentioned the boy's name. I never can keep up with my son. Last I knew, his relationship with the seneschal was his final one."  
  
Draco blinked. "The seneschal?" Thranduil looked at him as if he were daft.  
  
"Haldir of Lorien," the king said slowly. Draco felt faintly as if he'd been suckerpunched by Millicent Bulstrode.  
  
"He and Haldir were --" He couldn't finish it. He could not seem to work out whether he was insanely jealous or relieved. Then one of the things Haldir had said came back to him, some phrase said in the heat of the moment that Draco had entirely ignored.   
  
Did you think I had never done this before?  
  
Draco nearly choked. It took just a second to decide that he was revolted, and even then he wasn't entirely sure.  
  
Thranduil chuckled again at his reaction. "It is a shame that he will not give me a proper heir, since one of his brothers seems to be married to his spear and his other has the particular -- preferences that Legolas has." He shook his head.  
  
Draco was too in shock to absorb this latest piece of information. He nearly ran into Thranduil's back before he realized they had stopped.  
  
He heard Aragorn murmur, "He is hardly breathing," and he pushed past Thranduil and into the room where Aragorn was laying Haldir down onto a soft bed. Aragorn looked as if he were right; Draco could barely distinguish the rise and fall of Haldir's chest.  
  
"Shit," Draco whispered, and he took a second to be personally appalled by his lack of self-control and pride, before walking over and kneeling beside the bed. "Is he going to -- I mean, he is going to live. Aragorn?"  
  
Aragorn gave him a faint smile. "He will live," he said, "especially after the athelas. But I must caution you that, for his good health, he must not get out of bed for a day. Elvish healing is remarkably fast, but he is grievously wounded. I am insuring you with his continued health. Do not let him out of this bed."  
  
Draco nodded, keeping his eyes trained on Haldir's face even as his mind worked ferociously. Keeping Haldir in bed would mean that he could not pick up the trail and find Harry and Legolas. Leaving would mean that Haldir would likely try and follow him. Which, according to Aragorn, would be detrimental to his heath. He felt a bit like he was back in Potions class, trying to solve a particularly hard potion. This time, instead of Snape breathing down the back of his neck, he had a nervous elvish King.  
  
Draco ran a hand through his ruffled hair, heaved a great sigh and barely noticed when Aragorn administered the athelas and left, taking Thranduil with him.  
  
Suddenly there was movement from the bed, and Haldir's eyelashes fluttered before his eyes opened, training blearily on Draco.   
  
"Where, exactly, am I?" Haldir asked sharply, even with the lassitude of sleep still in his voice. Draco grinned, all thoughts of leaving completely gone.  
  
"Minas Tirith, that's where. No, wait! Get back in that damn bed right now!"  
  
Haldir wavered visibly on his feet once he'd managed to get out of the bed, and he barely managed to wrap the sheet around his waist so that he had a scrap of decency left. Draco hovered around him, not quite wanting to use force to get him back into the bed.  
  
"I have to leave," Haldir said, his voice firm even as he swayed dangerously to the right and Draco had to catch him. "I must get to Legolas and Harry. I must go now."  
  
"Aragorn said that you can't get out of bed for a day," Draco answered, equally firmly, but just a bit distracted by the fact that Haldir had been devested of his clothing while being examined. Draco caught hold of Haldir's shoulders when he swayed again, and the feel of muscles sliding beneath Haldir's smooth skin made Draco feel just a little lightheaded.  
  
"Bed," he emphasized when Haldir's eyes became a little unfocused, probably from his exhaustion. "Now."  
  
"No," Haldir snapped, attempting to push Draco away. Draco tightened his hold on Haldir's shoulders.  
  
Which was about when Draco had a rather brilliant plan to keep Haldir in the bed.  
  
He licked Haldir's jawbone to get his attention. Just once. Haldir looked at him incredulously when he drew back, licking his lips with a tiny smirk.  
  
"What exactly are you doing?"   
  
"Keeping you in bed," Draco said in a smoky tone, taking his hands from Haldir's shoulders and placing them on Haldir's waist instead. "Now, are you going to get back in the bed, or am I going to have to persuade you?"  
  
He looked up in time to see a tiny smile curl the edges of Haldir's mouth. "I am not entirely sure," Haldir began, but he was cut off when Draco crushed his mouth to the elf's, running his hands up Haldir's smooth chest slowly, stealing the moan from Haldir's mouth. In retaliation, Haldir placed one hand on the back of Draco's neck and drew him even closer, sneaking his other hand down Draco's front until it rested directly above Draco's trousers.  
  
Draco's head was spinning, and he was faintly aware of making an embarrassing cry when Haldir's hand lowered to right where he wanted it. He clutched onto Haldir's shoulders, unable to do anything except moan and thrash in Haldir's grip. He thought his toes would curl right into the stone floor. Haldir laughed quietly.  
  
"Bed," he whispered into Draco's ear, and it was all Draco could do to nod and whimper in protest when Haldir took his hand away. Then Haldir hooked his arms around Draco's back and lowered him gently onto the bed, himself hovering above Draco, placing his hands to either side of Draco's head and staring down at Draco until he felt himself blush.  
  
"Is this --" Haldir started, and Draco was so afraid that Haldir would stop that he thrust his own hips up until they met Haldir's, and Haldir hissed at the contact.  
  
Haldir lowered himself until they lay flush up against one another. Draco's breath exploded out of him in a desperate cry of "Oh, my God --" as his entire body shook at the contact, his eyes threatening to close from the sensation of Haldir moving almost lazily against him. Haldir's lips were parted slightly and his eyebrows were furrowed, almost as if he were in pain.  
  
"Do you --" Draco gasped out, almost not able to think. "Are you feeling -- all right?"   
  
Haldir suddenly drew in a sharp breath as one of Draco's wandering hands ran over what was obviously a broken rib.  
  
"You idiot," Draco muttered, and gently managed to roll them both over until he sat gently astride Haldir's hips, moaning through clenched teeth at the spark of pleasure. Haldir tugged at the bottom of his shirt, his eyes almost painfully bright.   
  
"Take this off," he whispered, cupping Draco's hips gently. Draco hastened to comply, throwing it to one side, not entirely sure he would remember where it was after this encounter was over. Haldir raised an eyebrow and pulled at the waistband of Draco's leggings.   
  
"Okay, okay," Draco said, trying to catch his breath and ignore Haldir's hands running over the small of his back. Between the two of them they managed to somehow get Draco's leggings off, and Draco sucked in a quick breath at the feeling of Haldir's bare skin on his own. He smirked down at Haldir, whose chest was heaving with his racing breaths. "Are you going to stay in bed now?"  
  
Haldir paused for a moment. "I might need a bit more convincing," he said softly and brought Draco down for another kiss, his hand wandering lower down Draco's body.  
  
"Oh, my God," Draco moaned, delicious shivers dancing up his spine, and it was the last coherent thing he managed to say for quite a while.  
  
It was slow and almost lazy, and at one point Draco had to bite his fist to keep from screaming the walls down. Haldir had an intense look of concentration on his face nearly the entire time, his brows furrowed; at one point he'd closed his eyes, but as their movements sped up he'd opened them again, staring up at Draco with a particular sort of soft look in his eyes. Then Haldir had let out a breathy moan and done something entirely wicked with his hips, and Draco had had to close his own eyes, and the moment was lost.  
  
Afterward, they lay in a comfortable, recovering silence, and Draco gasped for air as he tried to catch his breath. He rolled onto his stomach, wrapping his arm around Haldir's heaving chest, and placed a kiss onto Haldir's bare shoulder, already beginning to drift off.  
  
He almost thought that he heard Haldir murmur something that sounded like "sorry" before he was pulled down into the blackness of righteously exhausted sleep.  
  
_________________________  
  
A/N: ...Well! I thought that Harry and Legolas were going to reach Valinor this chapter. I suppose not. Instead, I had a completely spur-of-the-moment smut scene that didn't further the plot in any way whatsoever. *sigh*   
  
By the bye, I am of the opinion that Thranduil is a generally nice guy. I've read some fics where he is the general equivilent of the antichrist -- abusing Legolas, being a bullheaded moron, ect. I like Thranduil when he's nice. Therefore, he is nice in this story.  
  
Hope you liked it. I am still a little bit shocked at myself for all the sex, even if it wasn't exactly explicit. ...oops? 


	13. L'enfer

Black Eyes  
  
Chapter Thirteen: L'enfer  
  
by Capella  
  
A/N: Er, yes. I'm terribly sorry about the long, long break in between chapters. My brain on the blink + a rotten computer = long updating time. I would say that it'll never happen again, but it might, so I don't want to be a liar. But I will try to be better and less lazy.  
  
Some of the author notes got so excessively long that I put them at the bottom. Do read them, please -- it's a matter of life and death. Well, not really. Just annoying.  
  
Oh, yes. L'enfer is French for "the hell."   
  
Hey, read and review, okay? I love to read them. It's what I do in my spare time.   
  
A special thanks to both Whitney and twilight, whose feedback I desperately crave and love, and whose wisdom is probably equal to -- oh, I don't know, Illuvatar. Thanks, you guys.   
  
I know this chapter is dark, and most of the ones before it, too. I promise that it'll get better. It won't be unhappy for the rest of the story. If not next chapter, than the next, okay? :)  
  
This is -- an odd chapter. The first part is almost all impulse, and the second half is me attempting to force myself to write when I can't think. Sorry if it seems forced, but if I hadn't made myself do it, it would have never gotten done, ever.  
  
On a small side note, I 3 Gippal.  
  
_________________________  
  
"There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface  
  
Consuming, confusing  
  
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending  
  
Controlling, I can't seem  
  
To find myself again, my walls are closing in..."  
  
-- Linkin Park, "Crawling"  
  
_________________________  
  
   
  
Legolas stared down at Harry's face, slack with sleep, looking so innocent that the thought of what he was about to do made him desperately want to turn back.  But for some reason, his head felt full of fog -- he could not think, could not turn back or do anything but stare down at Harry's sleeping visage in anguish.  His hand trembled violently on the knife.  
  
But it wasn't revenge that made him drive the knife into Harry's chest, because revenge would have brought some sort of triumphant feeling when Harry's eyelids flew open and his eyes immediately sought out Legolas's own; instead, a feeling of intense grief and regret made Legolas nearly snatch his hand back.  Something kept it there; something made him push the knife deeper into Harry's chest.  Harry managed to choke out a desperate whimper, his eyes wide and panicked and shocked.  
  
"Legolas --" Harry gasped, his hands coming up to grip Legolas's wrist, trying to pull Legolas's fingers off the knife.  "Take it out -- Legolas --"    
  
"I cannot, Harry," Legolas whispered, using his other hand to stroke the black, tangled hair back from Harry's sweaty forehead, tracing the scar almost reverently.  Harry flinched at Legolas's touch, staring up at Legolas with horrified sort of betrayal in his eyes.  
  
"P-please," Harry said in a whispery tone, and despite himself, Legolas leaned forward a bit so he could catch the breathless words.  "Why -- are you doing this -- to me?"  
  
Harry made a broken sort of sobbing noise from deep in his throat as Legolas simply shook his head, and when Legolas placed his free hand on Harry's chest he could feel it spasming wildly under his fingers. He stared down at his hand in disbelief as it became soaked with blood.  
  
Harry was already beginning to get weak; Legolas could tell from the feebleness of the fingers that tried to pry his hand away and the pale, sickly shade of Harry's skin.  Legolas leaned down until his lips nearly touched Harry's ear, Harry's shuddering, panting breaths puffing gently against his cheek.  Words welled up in Legolas's throat, and they were words that hardly seemed his own; it was almost as if someone else was speaking and Legolas was merely watching the scene play out.  It was -- disconcerting.  
  
"Do you have any idea," he asked quietly, "how much your presence torments me?  I see you and all I can think about it what you have done.  You deserve a punishment.  And with you still alive I shall never get another night's rest -- nay, nor even a peaceful waking moment."  
  
"No," Harry sobbed, struggling for breath even as he was choking on his own blood, and Legolas didn't know if it was a denial of his impending death or what Legolas had just said.  "It hurts," he whimpered softly.  "Please -- Legolas --"  Tears overflowed and ran down his temples and into his hair, spiking his eyelashes together.  Legolas wiped Harry's tears away with a thumb.  
  
Legolas placed a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek and leaned back, and while his horror was not simply gone, he felt a growing sense of righteousness amidst it.  For some reason he could not identify, he took his hand off Harry's chest and slid it underneath Harry's shirt; Harry's skin was soft and slippery-wet under his fingers, and then Harry was gasping and dying and beautiful like nothing else.  Legolas could not seem to look away.  
  
Harry's skin had gone pale, nearly white, a sharp contrast to the bright blood rapidly staining Harry's shirt and the sheets.  It made him remember a night past, one of many, when Harry had made him wish he were dead; Legolas shuddered and twisted the knife a bit more.  Harry's spine arched violently and his mouth opened in a soundless scream.  It was so much like the way he looked when they made love that Legolas's heart ached.  
  
"I am sorry, Harry," he murmured.  Harry's eyes turned upon him, wild, desperate, the green of his irises made even more brilliant by the white shade of his skin.  "But you do understand why I must do this, do you not?"  
  
Harry's back lowered onto the sheets and he let out a last, despairing breath, his hands dropping from where they'd been clawing at Legolas's wrists and onto the bed.  He shuddered once more and was still.  
  
Legolas pressed a gentle kiss onto Harry's already cooling lips, ignoring the trickle of blood oozing out the corner of Harry's mouth.  
  
"Good-bye, Harry," he whispered.  
  
_________________________  
  
Legolas woke with a muffled gasp, not surprised to feel the wetness of tears on his face or the trickle of blood down the backs of his hands from where he'd dug his fingernails into his palms.  Surprisingly enough, the rope binding his wrists was gone.  
  
"Bad dreams?" Harry asked wryly.  
  
Legolas looked over at him and then shut his eyes, for a moment overwhelmed by the memories of Harry screaming, of Harry dying and sobbing and pleading.  
  
"I suppose I can understand why," Harry said when Legolas didn't answer. "I remember having the worst nightmares in Mordor." He flashed a smile at Legolas, teeth white and even. "What did you dream about?"  
  
Legolas opened his eyes again slowly, catching his bottom lip in between his teeth when he saw Harry's eyes close to his, burning bright and green, just as they had only a few moments ago.    
  
"We have stopped," he asked instead of answering, shifting his eyes away for a moment, surprised to see blue water surrounding them.  The Gray Havens were nowhere in sight.  "Why?  How long did I sleep?"  
  
Suddenly a hand grasped his shoulder, pulled him to his feet roughly, and Legolas had to suppress a cry of hurt at the pain that radiated through his body when Harry's fingers pressed deep into an open wound.  
  
There was a strange look in Harry's eyes now; a hungry, wild aspect lurking behind the bright green of his irises.   
  
"Harry, what are you --"  
  
"I have tried," Harry said in a raspy tone.  "I have tried, and --" He cut off abruptly, shutting his eyes as if in pain.  "God, but I want you."  
  
Harry ran a hand up into Legolas's hair and crushed their lips together violently, almost angrily.  It was so unlike Harry's normal kisses -- even since they had left Minas Tirith -- that Legolas had to pull back.  Only Harry's hand tangled in his hair kept their lips together.  Harry simply parted Legolas's lips and dominated the kiss, his tongue demanding and overpowering and slightly possessive.   
  
Harry slid his other hand underneath the back of Legolas's shirt, touching the sensitive skin of Legolas's lower back gently, sending a jolt of electricity up Legolas's spine.  Harry leaned back a bit and nipped his bottom lip.  
  
"Harry," he breathed.  "Harry --"   
  
Harry's mood changed entirely in less than a breath.  "Stop it," Harry ground out, snarling, turning away.  "I don't --" He pressed a hand to his temple.   
  
"You are not making sense," Legolas said, touching a hand cautiously to Harry's shoulder.  
  
Suddenly he was on his back on the deck of the ship, his head ringing and his jaw aching from where Harry had driven his fist into it.  Harry loomed above him, breathing heavily, pupils dilated. A tear spilled down his cheek, and Harry seemed unaware of it.    
  
All Legolas's senses screamed for him not to be vulnerable while facing an enemy.  He moved to stand and Harry was on him before he even got to his knees, pinning Legolas down with his legs.  
  
"Harry," Legolas tried, and a slap left his cheek aching.  
  
"Stop talking, God damn you," Harry snarled with a hint of desperation in his voice.  Legolas tried to hit him, tried to throw Harry off, but Harry grabbed his flailing wrists in a surprisingly strong grip.  Harry's breaths were fast and panicked.  
  
Legolas went still in Harry's hands, breathing evenly and staring up at Harry's flushed, desperate face.  
  
"Get off of me, Harry," he said quietly.  He refused to acknowledge the fact that his breathing was speeding up in fear, that his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that it was almost strange that Harry did not seem to hear it. "Please."  
  
Harry shook his head in denial, sweat running down his face and mixing with the tears.  Legolas shut his eyes as Harry rolled him onto his stomach, kept them closed when Harry pinned his wrists above his head with one hand and used the other to roll down Legolas's leggings. Harry switched his grip on Legolas's wrists to the back of Legolas's neck.  
  
Harry did not touch him except to hold his head down. Legolas did not say anything at first, because he knew it would be ignored.  He rolled his head to the side, biting at his arm to muffle his moans as he was pierced, shutting his eyes to keep in the tears of pain and betrayal and wishing he couldn't hear the noises Harry was making. He began to sob, involuntary little cries jerked from him as his face and shoulders were rocked against the wood of the boat.  
  
The first time he cried out in pain, Harry echoed him, and Legolas felt the tears dripping onto his neck.  He could hear the sounds coming from his own throat, half-screams of anguish as if the suffering he felt was too great to get the full scream out of his throat.  He tried to calm down by telling himself that he'd survived worse things than this, that he'd had a barbed arrow go through his thigh and a sword cut a gash in his stomach and worse.  Worse than this.  Somehow, it didn't seem to matter.  Gods -- he was shivering so badly that he didn't know how Harry kept the grip on his neck.  
  
When Legolas started to beg -- when he started to say things like "no" and "please stop," Harry's tears fell heavier and steadier on his skin, and his cries did not seem to be of pleasure at all.  But he did not stop, so Legolas tried to stop struggling.  He couldn't stop crying.  
  
When Harry came, he made a horrible sort of noise in the back of his throat, something both a sob and a scream, and rolled off Legolas so fast that it was all Legolas could do to lay there in shock, trembling violently, his body aching fiercely, his face slick with tears and sweat.  He kept his eyes tightly closed and stayed where he was, on his stomach, feeling the drip of liquid down his thigh.  Blood and -- and something else.  He bit his tongue and blinked his eyes to clear them of tears, surprised when no more came.  
  
A tentative hand touched his sweat-damp back and he flinched, too tired and weak and hurting to get away.  
  
"Legolas, I am sorry," Harry said quietly.  "But you understand why...why I had to do it.  I mean -- you did it to me, before."  Harry's voice was weak.  "I just -- I saw you sitting there and I had to.  I had to.  I don't know why."  Harry traced his bruised wrists from where they were still above his head, in the position that Harry had pinned them.  "Does it -- hurt?"  Harry's voice lowered to a whisper, still tracing gentle patterns on his back.  
  
"No," Legolas said, but the lie was loud in his ears, and his voice was hoarse from crying; his body ached as if he'd been beaten. He still did not dare to open his eyes.  
  
"Oh," Harry said, and his tone was so strange that Legolas looked over his shoulder without even thinking about it.  Harry was sitting a few feet away, curled in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees.  Shudders shook him from head to foot.  His eyes were wide and unseeing, and even as Legolas stared at them, they -- flickered, from bright green to cloudy and back.  It was not unlike the same flicker Legolas had seen just after Harry had killed Palahuan.  
  
"Harry," he whispered.  Harry's eyes trained on him, looking uncertain, flickering wildly.  "Harry."  He didn't know what to say.  His stomach was cramping and his body ached violently.  It took an effort not to cringe away from Harry's gaze.  
  
Harry shook his head and closed his eyes tightly, pressing his palms against his closed lids.  There was a bit of blood staining the tips of his fingers.  Legolas didn't know if it was from Thaliephel or from -- from him.  He stared at the blood, assaulted by a sudden feeling of revulsion and fear.  It had really happened.  It had happened and it was not something he could escape from, trapped on this little ship as they were.  It had happened and probably would again, and again until Harry finally killed him.  
  
Harry was whispering something now, drawing his attention away from the morbid thoughts circling in a dangerous cycle in his thoughts.  Legolas peered at Harry's lips through tear-blurred vision, but could not make out the words.    
  
After a few moments Legolas simply laid his cheek back onto the cool deck of the ship, feeling the dampness of his own sweat on the wood, and passed out.  He did not bother to find his leggings and put them back on, or to unbunch his shirt from where it was pushed up around his chest.  He left his wrists where they were, crossed over his head.  He fell into a dreamless sleep, as deeply as his hurts would allow.  
  
_________________________  
  
"He is gone?"  
  
Draco snarled unpleasantly. "I've said it five times already. I dislike repeating myself." His wand dangled enticingly at his side. It would take less than a second to draw it. His fingers nearly itched with the effort of holding them in fists.  
  
Aragorn made a placating gesture with his hands. "I am just as worried as you. I just --"  
  
"Who said I was worried?" Draco growled, pressing his lips together angrily. "I'm angry, I'm not worried. He just left me --"  
  
"Draco," Aragorn started, and then seemed to change what he was about to say mid-sentence. "When did he leave?"  
  
"I -- don't know," Draco admitted reluctantly, his worked-up anger gone suddenly. "I was sleeping. I was tired." He decided to leave off the part about what exactly had exhausted him so.   
  
It had been a shock, waking up that way. He'd woken up slowly only a few hours later, the feel of Haldir's skin still clinging to his hands and his lips -- smooth and sleek and warm. Reached out, and the bed had been empty.   
  
He refused to think about the fact that the situation bore a strong, painful resemblance to the morning after Dean's body had been discovered. Only perhaps Harry'd had less pure reasons for leaving him alone afterwards, that night.   
  
"It was just one more night," Harry had said coldly when Draco had finally cornered him. "One more opportunity to turn me over to Voldemort. I mean, why else would you have slept with me? Weren't you thrilled to have a last chance, a victory fuck?" At the time, Draco hadn't realized that he'd pulled back his fist until it had connected with Harry's jaw. Harry had pulled his wand out, and --  
  
He traced the deep scar outlining his Dark Mark absently.   
  
"Draco?" Aragorn asked, peering into Draco's eyes, and Draco realized with a jolt that he'd been staring off into nothing.  
  
"I'm sorry, Aragorn. What were you saying?"  
  
Aragorn looked at him for just a moment, eyes narrowed suspiciously, before continuing. "I am worried for Haldir and Legolas as well." Draco noticed the deliberate absence of Harry's name and winced. A pained look crossed briefly over Aragorn's face. "However, I cannot leave my people, as much as I would desire to. I am afraid that I must entrust this to you alone, you and Thranduil."  
  
"That pompous --"   
  
"The King of Mirkwood," Aragorn said firmly, "is as worried for his son as you are for Haldir and Harry." He raised an eyebrow at Draco's glare.  
  
"Fine," he muttered, and then in a louder voice: "Will Gandalf be going?"  
  
Aragorn sighed. "I cannot say. He left Minas Tirith early on in the day, and did not tell anyone where he was heading, not even I. If you encounter him, it will be by good fortune or his own will, not mine."  
  
Draco adjusted his shirtsleeves and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, get the King of Mirkwood and tell him that we must leave now." He raised an eyebrow. "And Aragorn, tell him not to be late."  
  
"That will not be necessary."  
  
Draco turned, rolling his eyes, as Thranduil walked up, his stride sure and graceful as if he was walking into his throneroom. He wore a light blue tunic and darker leggings that seemed more suited for a dignitary's visit than for searching for his son in the wild. A delicate silver diadem rested in his hair. "Wonderful for you to join us." Draco set his shoulders, straining for every inch of height. He wished he was tall enough to look the king in the eye. "Forgive me for skipping my bowing and scraping."   
  
To his surprise, Thranduil looked almost -- abashed, if such a word could be applied to one so proud. "I ask that you forgive me for my behavior yesterday," he said haltingly, as if the words pained him. "Leaving my people grieves me, and not being able to save my son more so." He let out a tiny sigh, reaching up to adjust his diadem, and letting his hands fall with a tiny twist to the corner of his mouth when he realized that it didn't need it.  
  
"We will find your son." Draco was astonished at the vehemence in his own voice. Thranduil blinked, and a small smile curved his lips for a moment.  
  
"I thank you," he said softly. "And I promise you that once we find Legolas, I will help you find the ones you seek, also. Even if --" he stopped and took a breath, and the next words came out slowly and with great effort. "Even if he was the one who hurt my son."  
  
Draco let himself smile despite the ache in the pit of his stomach. "Thank you."  
  
_________________________  
  
"Wake up, Legolas."  
  
Legolas flinched at the hand that touched his cheek gently. Harry's eyes stared into his own from only a few inches away, sparkling with feverish excitement. "Get up. Now."  
  
It was with a great effort that Legolas managed to pull himself to his feet, ignoring Harry's outstretched hand. He winced at the pain in his lower back and stared at Harry dully, waiting.  
  
"Come on." There was an odd note of breathless expectancy in Harry's voice, and when he grabbed Legolas's hand to pull him to the front of the ship, Harry's hands were trembling faintly.  
  
Legolas waited to speak until Harry stopped at the very front of the ship, his toes nearly touching the side of the ship. "Harry, why --"  
  
"Shut up, Legolas," Harry said softly and placed both hands on Legolas's shoulders, urging him ungently down to his knees. Legolas went without a word of protest, though his body throbbed with pain. He stared at the wood beneath his knees and waited.  
  
Harry's hand tangled in Legolas's hair, pulling his head back until he stared up at Harry's flushed face; Legolas dug his nails into his palms as Harry tugged on his hair and grinned down at him.   
  
"It's time," he said in a low voice, his eyes burning dangerously, looking up from Legolas and scanning the ocean.   
  
"Harry," Legolas whispered, hating himself for flinching when Harry glared down at him. "I do not --"  
  
"Shut up," Harry hissed, and silver flashed in his hand. "Talk and I'll slit your throat." A knife appeared at Legolas's throat, digging into his skin, and Legolas felt a small warm drop of blood trickle down his chest.   
  
"Why?" he asked dully, staring out at the ocean and not really caring for Harry's answer. Harry growled and nicked his neck with the knife.  
  
"I said shut up. If you interfere --" Harry's breath was coming in audible, excited gasps. "Just don't." He kept the knife at Legolas's throat. Legolas considered talking for a moment, just to see if Harry would cut his throat.  
  
Suddenly Harry opened his mouth and bellowed.  
  
"Ulmo!"  
  
Legolas started violently, and the knife cut a deep weal in his throat. Harry paid him no attention.  
  
"Ulmo!" Legolas glanced up at Harry again, trembling; Harry's eyes were the brightest green with excitement.  
  
"What are you doing?" he hissed, ignoring Harry's raged glare. "You do not know what you are doing! Do not call him again!"  
  
"Are you afraid?" Harry grinned down at him. "You, afraid of anything?"  
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes, forgetting for a moment the knife at his neck and the aches of his body. "You are a fool to not fear the King of the Sea. How you even learned his name, I do not know, but you must not anger him. He will tear apart this ship."  
  
"With you on it?" Harry asked, his eyes glinting and his smile showing too many teeth. "I do not think so."  
  
The boat rocked suddenly, violently, and Legolas tore his eyes away from Harry to look at the ocean; the edges of the waves were white-tipped with foam and towering high, many almost higher than the mast of the ship itself. The water was an angry, swirling indigo, and Legolas shook to hear the sound of the crashing waves that almost sounded like voices.  
  
"Are you not afraid, Harry?" he whispered. "Can you not feel his wrath?"  
  
"I revel in it," Harry said softly, almost to himself. "For my downfall --"  
  
The rest of the words were lost as the crest of a wave smashed against the side of their boat and Legolas was sent sprawling across the deck of the floor, smashing into the side. Miraculously, Harry stayed on his feet, staring out into the violent sea with an almost expectant expression.  
  
"Come to me," he said. "Now."  
  
The ocean roared angrily, almost in denial of his command, but slowly a form appeared in front of the bow of the boat; it was glowing faintly -- a man, it appeared, but wreathed in an armor that seemed to be made of gold and silver fish scales, with a long blue-green beard. His eyes were a furious, glowing green that set a shaking inside Legolas's bones.  
  
What do you wish of me, mortal man?  
  
His voice was like and unlike the other Vala -- it was somehow the light tone of a trickling brook and the powerful sound of the depths of the ocean. Harry did not seem impressed. Harry simply raised an eyebrow and -- smirked.  
  
"I want to go to Valinor. You will show me the way of the Straight Road."  
  
It seemed as if Ulmo laughed, and the ocean waters shook with the power of it.   
  
You know that I cannot, mortal man, and even if I wished it, I would not. There is evil in the heart of you, and your blackened soul in Valinor would put a stain upon the land. No, mortal man, I will not.  
  
Harry's eyes flashed furiously. "Fine." His tone was strangely conversational. He was across the deck in two steps, grabbing Legolas by the hair and pulling him to his knees again, bending Legolas's head back and exposing his throat. Legolas did not make a move to escape, but stared into Ulmo's eyes, and he thought that he could almost see a hint of concern in them. "Then I will cut his throat. Oh, have you two met? This is Legolas, the crowned Prince of Mirkwood. You do know that it is written if the blood of Thranduil fails, Mirkwood will fade. I suggest you let me go to Valinor if you do not want to see your precious Elves die."  
  
I can kill you, mortal man.  
  
Harry smiled, but the hand in Legolas's hair shook for a moment. "Not before his blood stains the deck of this boat. We both will live, or we both will die. Which will it be, Lord of Waters?"  
  
You have hurt him.  
  
"Yes." For a moment, Harry's hand loosened. His voice was oddly quiet. "I have."  
  
There was a moment of pause, and the waters gradually quieted. Ulmo bowed his head slightly, mockingly, glaring at Harry with murderous green eyes.  
  
You may pass. But my brothers in Valinor will not be so lenient, and I dare say that you will not evade thirteen of my kind.  
  
"We shall see." Harry's smile was grim. "And I be greatly aggrieved if our pact is not kept. You will direct the path of my ship onto the Straight Road, and you will not inform your brothers and sisters of my coming." Ulmo's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Harry forestalled his arguements with a slight jerk of Legolas's hair.   
  
Fine, mortal man. Your pact shall be kept. I curse the day that my brother raised you from the dead. Would that you have died, and saved us whatever torment you seek to inflict upon the land of my brothers. Go now, and do not speak to me again.  
  
The moment Ulmo's speech ceased the waters became still and clear as glass, and Ulmo's form disappeared from the air in front of the ship. Harry let go of Legolas with a pleased chuckle.  
  
"Fool," he cackled, grinning as the wind caught the sails and the ship began gently but steadily moving towards the West. "He is a fool, forever a fool. But he gave me what I wanted."  
  
"You," Legolas seethed, forcing himself to his feet however much he wavered; his legs felt as if they wished to collapse, and every move sent fiery pain up his spine. "What have you done? What are you planning to do? You must not go to Valinor!"  
  
In a flash Harry was at his side, twisting a hand in the front of Legolas's shirt.  
  
"Do not tell me what to do, Legolas," he said in a dangerous, quiet tone. Legolas flinched away from the look in Harry's eyes, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes. Harry made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat and threw Legolas to the deck.  
  
"Do not bother me again, Legolas," he said, and gazed towards the West as if he could see the city of Valinor before him. "I have planning to do."  
  
__________________________  
  
Extensive Author's Note: Gah. I know it's not the greatest. But it is done, and while that isn't all that matters, at least it's something. Forced, yeah. Not my best, yeah. But, oh well. Now for the fun stuff.  
  
It is official; I have a new pet peeve. Did you know, I have gotten actual e-mails telling me "Hey, you know, I really don't like the way Harry is acting. Could you go back and change it, please/Could you change it now?", and also some that say that "Harry isn't evil. He is a good person. Haven't you read the books? What is wrong with you, idiot?" Thusly, I am getting ready to tear my hair out. No, I am not going to change the story to make you more comfortable or so that you'll like it more. No, I won't consider changing the way Harry is behaving, or make the ending exactly how you want it. a) don't tell me to change it, and b) do not tell me what I can and cannot write. Don't tell me that "Harry isn't evil, he's good". Hey, guess what. My story. I can write him however I damn well please, and I could do it without even giving a reason for it. So either go with the flow and try to enjoy the ride, or don't read it. I'm near to the point where I say that if I get one more email like that, I'm just going to say hell with it, and just kill everyone off. End of story.   
  
But it's okay if you say "yeah, it's really sad the way Harry's such an ass" or "this is rather depressing" or "I don't like the way Legolas's getting the crud beat out of him, but oh well". Just don't tell me what to do, kay? Kay.  
  
Whew, sorry for the vitriol, and sorry for those of you who had to read all of that and didn't deserve it.   
  
Ulmo's appearence is entirely made up. I have no idea how he looks. This is from a picture that I remember from a drawing of Ulmo I saw. Oh, well. Sounds good enough.  
  
Also, the part about Mirkwood fading? I don't know if it's true or not. I thought I remembered reading it in one of Tolkien's many books, but I'm not sure. Even if it's not true, it's still there.  
  
Uh, sorry for all these author notes. 


	14. Devil May Cry

Black Eyes

Chapter Fourteen: Devil May Cry

by Capella  
  
A/N: Well, here it is, at long last.I'm terribly sorry it took so long. Life and a ferocious writer's block and the World Series took their toll. Plus, I took my time on it because I wanted it to be worth the (admittedly ridiculously long) wait. Hope it's up to par.

Review, review, review. I am like the Andromeda strain, only instead of alkaline killing me, I die when I have no reviews. Honestly. Uh, sorry if I ruined that movie for any of you who are presently watching it.  
Oh, and thank you so much to those of you who were not complete asses during my little crisis. Barfing, that ass comment was directed towards you. Finally, the name reflects the person inside.  
P.S. I have no concept of time. Do not bother pointing out time-related inaccuracies.

* * *

"And then you came back, you, the angel of destruction - just as I felt sure. In a moment, at your touch, there is nothing but ruin. O God, what have I done? The python. The octopus. Must I become after all what you would make me?"  
  
- T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party, Act One

* * *

They were saddling up the horses with supplies for a long journey -- mostly lembas, which Draco had to settle for, and clothing -- when Rumil found them. He looked tired -- there were deep, dark circles beneath his blue eyes, and his shoulders slumped in a way that Draco had never seen an elf's do -- but his jaw was set with determination. He was leading a horse, a sweet little gray mare, already loaded with Rumil's own supplies. Draco eyed him critically as he walked up.  
  
"I want to go with you." Rumil's eyes were hard and unyielding. He looked ready to do violence. Draco didn't really care.  
  
"I don't really care," Draco informed him, grunting as he clinched the saddle underneath the horse's stomach like Thranduil had showed him. She whickered gently, as if sensing his agitation. "I don't need another elf on this trip." He didn't look at Rumil as he spoke.  
  
"My brother is out there. My -- my brother's fiancee is out there. And you are going to the Gray Havens." Rumil stroked the neck of Draco's horse, and his own horse whinnyed jealously and nudged his arm. "I am coming with you."  
  
Draco sighed and straightened. "No, you're not. I'll have an easier time of it if we have only two people along."  
  
A hand grabbed his shoulder, hard, and he yelped, and Rumil spun him around so that he was staring into hard, angry blue eyes; Rumil's other hand came up to grip his bicep so hard that Draco could imagine the bruises forming.  
  
He glared up at Rumil and twisted, but Rumil held on, staring steadily at Draco. "You are not the only one who is worried," he said calmly. "I am worried as well --"  
  
"Who gives a fuck," Draco snarled and attempted to knee Rumil in the groin. Rumil twisted out of the way and let go of Draco's shoulder, only to drive his fist into Draco's shortribs a second later. Draco doubled over, gasping for breath.  
  
"You cannot stop me from coming. If you do, I will beat you near to death and then tie you to your horse, and go anyway. However, I would prefer it if you did not put up this fuss. Are we clear?"  
  
Still gasping, Draco looked over at Thranduil and raised an eyebrow. There was a little smile playing around the corners of Thranduil's mouth. He said nothing,  
  
After a few moments, Draco regained his lost breath. "Fine," he growled and climbed onto his horse a little unsteadily, glaring at Rumil as the elf swung up effortlessly. "But we leave now. And we ride hard. I don't care if I have to break these horses' legs to get to the Gray Havens before Haldir does."  
  
He could feel the elf grinning at him, and he stoically stared ahead, wondering why it hurt to look into those eyes, so much like Haldir's own.

* * *

Harry did not touch Legolas again for a long, long time.  
  
Legolas stayed, sitting, on the starboard side of the boat during the day, resting his back on the planks of the boat's side and staring blatantly at Harry, who either did not notice or did not care. Harry remained always at the prow staring out over the water, sometimes looking up at the sky, never taking notice of the spray soaking his clothes and hair. His eyes were always green.  
  
During the night, they occupied the one cabin in silence. Legolas voluntarily slept on the floor, while Harry laid awake in the one bed. Legolas was often awakened when Harry would go back out onto the deck in the middle of the night; Legolas assumed that he went back to the prow where he always stood. He never followed Harry, even after his bruises healed. The finger-shaped bruises on his hips were the last to fade.  
  
It was on one such day, sitting and staring almost entranced by the way Harry's hair whipped back from his face, that Legolas found himself numbly wondering why exactly he had not killed Harry yet.  
  
In all honesty, in his present healed state he was stronger than Harry was -- it would have been easy, so easy, to sneak up behind Harry and push him over the side. He realized that he could probably watch Harry drown with only a modicum of regret.  
  
But if while in his attempt, Harry turned and looked at him -- it was always the eyes that stopped Legolas -- he knew he would fail; always, on their trip to the Gray Havens with his repeated attempts to escape, Harry's eyes would somehow stop him. It wasn't so much that he was frightened but that they reminded him of when life was not this way, when Harry was -- normal.  
  
Harry turned and looked at him, smiling slightly as if he knew what Legolas was thinking, and Legolas felt a little chill run down his spine. Then Harry turned back, and the moment was lost.  
  
Legolas used his days to think. He had never really had this sort of free time; he had always been hunting orcs, in his father's court, helping patrol Dol Guldur, traveling with the Fellowship -- his mind was kept so occupied by his activities that he never had time to just reflect.  
  
Now, he had time.  
  
He devoted most of his time to replaying back the moments of the past few weeks with Harry over and over, trying to figure out exactly where it had gone wrong and what had happened. He supposed his first warning sign should have been when Harry had gone blind. He'd seemed weaker as well during that period, which Legolas had simply chalked up to his new condition, but perhaps he had been wrong. And maybe -- he had been pale; he had looked like some of the humans Legolas had seen fighting off sickness or weariness.  
  
Suddenly a memory popped into his mind. When they had first arrived back at Minas Tirith, Harry had acted -- strange, shaking and falling. He tried to remember what Harry had said.  
  
_"I could see..."_  
  
His eyes had been green.  
  
And then Harry had gone insane with Aragorn and Gandalf, and had his eyes been green then? Legolas couldn't seem to remember.  
  
What was it about Harry's eyes? Why were they green now instead of the pale milky-white color of blindness, and why could he see? Why were they green when he acted like -- like he was now?  
  
"You're thinking too hard, Legolas."  
  
Legolas glanced up to see Harry looking down at him, radiating a faintly amused air. There was something in his eyes -- his green eyes -- that Legolas did not like.  
  
"How do you know I was at all?" It came out a bit more passive than Legolas would have liked. Harry smirked a little.  
  
"I suppose I don't," he said, still sounding amused, and turned back to look at the sea.  
  
Legolas leaned his head back against the wood of the ship and started thinking again.

* * *

Draco climbed off his mare, petting her sweaty, heaving sides absently. There was froth on her mouth, and her eyes were slightly wild. Neither Rumil's nor Thranduil's horses looked much better.  
  
He glanced at Rumil, who was bent over the ground, carefully studying the ground. The wind blew Draco's hair into his face, and he spit it out with an annoyed sigh.  
  
"You're sure he came this way?"  
  
Rumil gave him a withering glare. "I was not a guard of Lothlorien for nothing. Yes, my brother passed by here on his way to the Gray Havens. I do not doubt that he might near there already. We are a half a day behind." Rumil spoke slowly now, studying the ground harder as if it might tell him precious secrets. "He is moving slowly because of his illness; he pushes his horse hard but stops often to rest. He must be quite injured if he stops so often. I have never seen him rest while injured."  
  
"He is worried," Draco said softly, staring at the ground that Rumil was bent over. "He must be concerned for his fiancee."  
  
"You are a fool if you believe that," Rumil snapped. "He cares for her and worries for her safety, yes. But if you believe he goes out of some romantic notion, than you are more a fool than I thought. He has other concerns than her. He and Legolas known each other many years." Rumil's mouth quirked up in a smile. "He always has had a strange heroic bent as well that I have not seemed to inherit." Rumil paused for a moment, and then looked up seriously at Draco. "And you are Harry's friend."  
  
Draco could not think of anything to say in reply. Rumil did not seem to notice.  
  
"Perhaps we can catch him. We are a day and a half from the Gray Havens," Rumil said quietly. "I wonder what we will find there."Nothing Rumil told him could have prepared Draco for what they saw.

* * *

"There's...no one here."  
  
Draco was too stunned to reply. He had expected activity -- elves coming to travel on the boats, sentries, children playing -- but standing at the gates of the Gray Havens was like standing at the entrance to a ghost town. No noise, no elves, no anything.  
  
"There is something wrong," Thranduil said softly.  
  
"Of course there is," Rumil snapped. "No one is here."  
  
"Something other than that." Thranduil glanced around him with an air of faint unease. "Can you not feel it?"  
  
A soft breeze blew Draco's hair into his face, and he felt a little chill go down his spine; he tried to tell himself it was just Thranduil and Rumil's paranoia affecting him, making the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He rubbed his arms briskly.  
  
"Did they all leave?" he said mostly to himself, and wondered, silently, why none of them had stepped inside the town yet.  
  
"I do not know." Rumil seemed to be gathering himself to enter. "We must split and search the village. Meet back here. If any of us finds something urgent, let out a cry." With that, he marched straight into the village without looking back. Draco cast an uneasy glance around them and followed him less surely.  
  
He watched Rumil and Thranduil disappear up the street, obviously leaving the front section of the village to him. The wind blew a shutter from a nearby house closed and he jumped so badly that he nearly fell over, his heart thudding in his chest.  
  
"Jesus," he said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He approached the first house with a fair bit of trepidation, finding himself shaking in reaction to something he had not yet seen as he reached his hand for the doorknob.  
  
He opened the door, and a pair of crystal-blue eyes stared lifelessly up at him from the floor.  
  
An elf lay on the floor, her neck twisted almost all the way around, the throat slit wide open. Her hair lay soaked in the puddle of blood created by her wound. Draco felt his stomach heave and tried scream for the others but found he had no voice, the sound created by his attempt a low, choked moan. Nothing he had seen his father do had prepared him for this.  
  
A small child lay next to the woman-elf, staring up at the ceiling, but apparently with no wounds that Draco could see. Draco knew, right then, what had caused that little elf-child's death. He wondered from the peaceful look in the dead child's eyes if she had not seen the green light coming.  
  
"Harry, you bastard," he said softly. There was no reply.  
  
He wandered aimlessly from house to house, knowing somehow even in the silence that Thranduil and Rumil were finding the same scenes he was, time and again -- men, women, children dead; the older elves all murdered brutally, the children never with a mark on their bodies. Draco found one elf staring up with big brown eyes at the ceiling in shock, his hands still on his stomach, apparently to keep a loop of intestines in his body, and Draco bent over where he was and vomited noisily and messily onto the floor.  
  
Draco was standing up, wiping his mouth, when he heard a long, anguished wail, more like an animal in pain than anything else. He backed out of the house, his eyes glued on the elves until Draco could no longer see him.  
  
He followed the dying cries until he found the source -- Rumil, hunched over a body in what appeared to be some sort of gathering-square. The body wore a dress.  
  
Thranduil was already there, standing off to one side, murmuring something in his own elvish language.  
  
"She is gone," Rumil whispered, so softly that Draco could barely hear. He lifted the figure's head and pressed it to his chest tightly, stroking the woman's long black hair while her blood soaked his shirt and trousers. "Too late. We were too late."  
  
"Rumil --" Draco started, and then stopped, unsure of how to comfort or help, not sure whether Rumil wanted either.  
  
"I loved her," Rumil said, brushing the side of Thaliephel's face with the back of his hand, tracing the curve of her mouth with a finger. "I wanted to marry her. I never told her." He looked down at her blankly.  
  
"Leave him," Thranduil said quietly, and Draco looked at him, questioning. Thranduil glanced down at Rumil and then back at Draco, his blue eyes clear and shining with something that Draco suspected might be tears. "There is nothing we can do for him, or for her. We must go on. There are ships in the harbour we can take, and I have a feeling that Manwe will favor us with strong winds and Ulmo with calm waters."  
  
He turned without another word and left, leaving Draco alone with Rumil, who was still silently staring down, stroking Thaliephel's face and hair, smoothing her dress, blood staining his hands and coat.  
  
Draco left Rumil after a few moments to follow Thranduil to the boat, thinking all the while of the bodies he had found and the one who was responsible.

* * *

As each day passed, Legolas could sense the excitement radiating from Harry growing; as each length of ocean passed behind them with no troubles, Harry grew more pensive, almost never leaving the bow of the ship, barely eating. He did not seem to need either food nor sleep. His eyes were so bright a green that they almost hurt to look into, like the glare of light reflecting off of metal.  
  
And with each passing day, Legolas grew a bit more desperate to find a way to keep Harry from reaching his goal -- whatever that was.  
  
Legolas lost count of the days. He occupied himself by thinking of his father, his brothers, Rumil, Haldir. Thinking of Harry helped not at all.  
  
Then one day he knew that something was different. The waters were clearer, an amazing turquoise color that exposed all of the beautiful fish swimming, unworriedly, alongside the boat. The air was fragrant, the sky a magnificent blue.  
  
Legolas felt his heart pounding in his chest when he saw Harry gripping the side of the ship, his knuckles white and bleeding from the fierceness of Harry's grip.  
  
His mind raced as he tried to think of something that would distract Harry and maybe allow him to take control of the boat. He knew there was rope in the cabin. Perhaps if he just lunged -- knocked Harry's head against the side of the boat, ran downstairs, tied his hands, waited until they reached the Long Isle --  
  
Allowing no time for thought, Legolas shifted silently until he was in a crouch. As he lunged, he noticed belatedly that Harry's grip on the ship had relaxed, and not until Harry spun around and grabbed him by the throat and gathered Legolas's wrists in his other hands did Legolas realize his mistake.  
  
"I can't believe you would try this again, Legolas," Harry said in an unpleasant, threatening tone, squeezing Legolas's throat until Legolas felt his eyes water. The punch that Legolas threw at Harry's midsection was halfhearted through his lack of air and Harry avoided it easily. "You could have easily beaten me four weeks ago, but now?" Harry smirked. "You haven't eaten in days. I suppose you haven't noticed. You're weak, Legolas."  
  
Without warning, he slammed Legolas's head on the side of the ship. Legolas moaned and slumped to the floor, his vision going gray. He heard footsteps walking away but could not make himself care through the throbbing in his skull, and only when he felt the hands gathering his own and tying them together in front of his body did he realize what had happened.  
  
The feeling of a knot being pulled tight and coarse rope on his wrists brought him back to consciousness.  
  
He opened his eyes to Harry smirking down at him. He was yanked unceremoniously up by the hair.  
  
Legolas started to speak, but something gleaming in the distance caught his eye.  
  
His eyes widened involuntarily. Harry twisted his head enough to see.  
  
He could see the shores of the Long Isle. Harry was still gripping his throat but had let go of his wrists in shock, and he too was looking at the almost glowing-white land in front of them, a fevered look in his eyes. For some reason, it put a desperate panic into his heart, and almost without thinking he reached for Harry's waist and grabbed the knife that hung there with both hands, pulling it from the sheath before Harry could react and slashing it across Harry's face.  
  
Harry let go of his throat and staggered back, a hand going to his face. He hissed in pain, and blood streamed down his neck from a cut deeper than Legolas had thought at first, slanting delicately from the bottom left of Harry's cheek and nearly up to his eye. Harry lifted his hand away from the slash, staring at the blood that trickled down his palm.  
  
"I should kill you for that," Harry hissed, ignoring the steady stream of blood, and grabbing Legolas by the hair. He yanked Legolas up, not tall enough to bring them both to eye level, but he seemed content enough to stare down at Legolas in a dangerous rage. There was blood on his lips, and he licked it away with an expression of distaste. Legolas saw the death go out of his eyes.  
  
"You have gained my passage to Valinor," Harry said after a moment as if thinking out loud to himself, "but I have not yet traveled across the land. I could still be prevented from reaching my goal."  
  
"What goal is that?" Legolas asked softly. Harry looked almost startled, but because of the question or the answer, Legolas did not know.  
  
"You will find out later. If I let you live." The tone was cold, but he seemed slightly off-balance. He seemed to have forgotten about his cheek for a moment.  
  
"That is going to scar."  
  
"Are you trying to provoke me into killing you?" Harry stared down at him, but strangely enough, there was the hint of a smile around the corners of his lips. Legolas had not seen him truly smile in what seemed like an age.  
  
His eyes flickered, and Harry staggered for a moment, his hands going to his face. When he took his hands away, his face was contorted in desperation and his hands were stained from the blood on his cheek.  
  
"Harry," Legolas said quietly, realizing how off-balance Harry was, that whatever was making him act so strangely had loosened its hold for a second. "Please, untie me. Please."  
  
Harry stared straight through him with milky-white eyes, and then he rubbed at his eyes with his fingers desperately, almost too hard, as if he wished to crush them into his skull. Despite himself, Legolas was beginning to worry about the cut on Harry's cheek -- he had not meant it to be so deep; and Harry's face was beginning to go deathly pale, but whether from blood loss or something else, Legolas was not sure.  
  
"Please," Legolas said again, and held out his wrists; Harry stared straight through him with those odd milky-white eyes, so different from the green they had been only a few moments before, and Legolas let his hands down slowly, realizing that Harry could not see them.  
  
Then Harry seemed to whisper something to himself and shake his head; he blinked, and his eyes were again their usual startling green.  
  
He smiled at Legolas slowly.  
  
"Nice try," he said softly. He approached Legolas, who stared at him in distrust, almost flinching when Harry's hand came up to stroke his cheek. "You'll have to do better than that, love."  
  
He put both hands on each of Legolas's shoulders and pushed, and Legolas fell to the floor where he sat without a word, staring up at Harry in shock.  
  
It had not worked. And now, they had reached Valinor.

* * *

A/N: Abso-frickin-lutely took me FOREVER. So so so so sorry.  
Please review and let me know that you don't all hate me.

But...Presidential Election time!


	15. Prince of Spades

Black Eyes

Chapter Fifteen: Prince of Spades

by Capella

A/N: It took a good long while coming out, but honestly, are any of you really surprised at this point?

twilight: My Legolas seems to have a penchant for growing extra limbs when necessary, huh? And the stuff with Feanor I'm still trying to figure out, so it may be in later chapters...but, it may not.

I have a reply to Kat at the bottom of this story.

Review, please, because I am a gigantic review whore.

* * *

"Through darkest mists,

With stoutest boasts,

He thrusts his fists against the posts

And still insists he sees the ghosts."

- Anonymous tonguetwister

* * *

"Haldir!" 

Loud, intrusive voices. They hurt. The hands shaking his shoulders seemed hardly less cruel.

"Wake up!"

The voice was shrill, familiar. Brought memories of hands touching him under different circumstances, with a pair of bright eyes watching. He cracked an eye open to make sure it was the same one he remembered, but the light seared through the back of his skull and he shut his eye again. As the skin of his face stretched, he felt a tiny sharp pain and felt wet warmth trickle down into his parted mouth, which he was too tired to close.

"Why is he still here?"

"He must have been too injured to make it the rest of the way to his destination." A different voice, that, deeper and calming, familiar all the same. "The fierce ride here, with his hurts, was not good to him."

"I tried to keep him in bed, I swear to God." The voice was getting more desperate now. "He's just a stupid idiot. He wouldn't stay. I swear to God I tried to make him stay."

His breath coming fast and shallow, he shifted slightly, trying to get them to realize that he was capable of moving, but that movement alerted him rather painfully to the jabbing in his side that felt dangerously like a few broken ribs. Blood slowly filled his mouth, and it took all of his strength to swallow it. A little bit dribbled over his lips. He coughed weakly.

He tried to talk and tell the voices that he needed to leave urgently, that he could not stay while they debated over his state of health, but his head was spinning that he could not even think to form the words. He shifted again a little and moaned again when that set off hundreds of stabbing, aching pains all over his body. A hand laid itself gently on his forehead.

"Rest, Haldir."

The hand was cool and soothing, smooth, like the speaker's voice. He tried to protest but could not find the strength.

Sleep was swift in coming.

* * *

Draco stared down at Haldir, leaning against one of the small houses closest to the docks; he had apparently sat down to rest for a moment and not gotten back up. His horse grazed lazily nearby, casting Haldir a baleful glance every once in a while as if to chide him for the injury done himself. 

Thranduil looked up at Draco from where he knelt on the ground next to Haldir, his hand smeared lightly with blood from where he had touched Haldir's shirt when attempting to wake him from his sleep. His face was grim.

"His eyes were closed as he slept," he said, and pressed his lips together into a thin white line. "Whoever injured him was thorough."

"Harry," Draco said softly. Thranduil was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was tight.

"The one who is with my son."

Draco had nothing to say to that, but felt disbelief once again that Harry could have done this. The Savior of the Wizarding World - as much as Harry loathed that title - had killed an entire village, beat Haldir to the point of death, and kidnapped a king's son.

The reason was irrelevant. As much as he disliked Legolas, he had to be found and Harry had to be stopped from accomplishing - whatever he was attempting to accomplish. Draco had already steeled himself to Harry's death, accepting the fact that if he or Thranduil would not kill Harry, there was a line a mile long who would gladly do the task for them.

Haldir moaned a little and shifted, his eyelashes fluttering, before he was still again.

"We cannot possibly take him with us as he is," Draco said, and heard the desperation in his own voice, knowing already what he wanted Thranduil to say.

"We can and we will." Thranduil looked grim. "If you have forgotten, there is no one alive here to care for him."

Draco had not forgotten.

* * *

"This will not work." 

"Be quiet."

Legolas shifted positions, glaring up at Harry, who stood at the bow of the ship watching the Long Isle slowly pass by. His black hair hung in lank waves to his neck, thin and stringy from the spraying salt of the ocean.

"You have a prince of Mirkwood with his hands bound sitting on the deck of the ship and you expect to be able to get into Valinor?"

Harry looked at him with green eyes that were entirely too piercing, smiled beatifically, and turned to stare again at the approaching shore.

Legolas shifted positions again. He had finally realized the weakness coursing through his body that he had worked so hard to ignore. The lack of food, sleep, and the constant worry had finally deteriorated his body to the breaking point, where he had to labor for each breath and fight to keep from falling into a sleep from which he feared he would not wake. He wondered sometimes why Harry was not similarly affected.

"You do not have to do this, Harry," he said softly, but this time it came out sounding forced and tired, hopeless. Legolas had said that and many other things many times before. None had worked. He did not know why he kept trying.

Harry looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Are you purposely being obtuse?" he asked incredulously. "Perhaps I should have brought Haldir instead. He would have provided more of an intellectual challenge." He smiled coldly, and Legolas's insides crawled in aversion. "But I wanted you more. Much more. A puppet prince, to dance when I want, pretty and useless, but entertaining." He looked amused, but there was something odd in his eyes, something that said that he couldn't believe what he was saying. "And yes, I must do this. I'm afraid you do not understand near as much as you pretend you do." He turned back to his study of the ocean. His next words were soft, so much so that Legolas had to lean a little closer to hear and still was not sure of what he heard. He was not sure if Harry even knew he had said them.

"I want to be as free as much as you."

"Harry -" he said, and willed Harry to respond - to respond as if he still knew his own name.

After a long moment, Harry turned his green, green eyes on Legolas, but the movement was slow and there was such a foreign look in Harry's eyes that it was frightening, almost.

And gods, but the Long Isle was slowly passing them by on their right, and Harry was showing no signs of stopping. It was obvious what is goal was. Valinor.

"I think I'll almost miss you when you're gone, Legolas," Harry said, and Legolas tensed as if he expected to be attacked that very instant. Harry answered his unspoken question, but this time there was no teasing tone in his voice.

"Our journey together is going to end very soon, dear Legolas," Harry said softly, gazing at Legolas almost sadly. "You know I'm going to kill you."

"Who _are_ you?" Legolas whispered. Harry laughed, his somber mood dissipated in the space of a few seconds, and spread his arms wide, taking two steps back until he hit the prow of the ship.

"Who am I?" Harry repeated, laughing, shaking his head. "God, but you're pathetic, Legolas. I know what you want. You sit there and worry your pretty little head that maybe it really is me doing all these things to you, but then you relax because you realize that it has to be someone else because the Harry you know would never do all those things; he would never kill and rape and have ambitions that don't involve you."

Harry smiled as if Legolas were a little child, and Legolas refused to acknowledge the wetness on his own face as Harry continued.

"You really must wake up, Legolas," Harry said, walking over and grabbing Legolas's chin not ungently. Legolas jerked his head out of Harry's grasp and Harry straightened, grinning. "It really is me, just maybe a little improved. I still remember everything, if that's what I need to prove it to you. I remember my relatives, my cupboard, my fat-arsed cousin, my meatbag uncle, my first Hogwarts letter, Hedwig, Platform Nine and Three Quarters, my first Quidditch game, my first kiss from Cho, my first time with Draco -"

Harry continued, and Legolas stared up at him with involuntary tears running down his cheeks, blurring his vision until Harry was nothing more than a dark silhouette against the sun. He looked away as Harry kept talking, watching the shores of Valinor approaching fast, and tried to tone out what Harry was saying, because somehow it hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced in his long life.

"Why?" he asked softly, when Harry had finally stopped for a breath.

"I changed," Harry answered just as quietly, but there was a hint of a smirk lurking in the corners of his mouth. "Maybe it was during my stay in Mordor when you raped me, or maybe it was sometime after that. People change, Legolas," he said, and the smirk emerged. "You're just too innocent for your own good." He reached down to touch Legolas's cheek lightly. Legolas could not find the strength to pull away, and endured the touch until Harry stepped back to the front of the boat.

"Yes, Legolas," Harry answered, even quieter. "I'm still here." Then he grinned wickedly, his green, green eyes glinting. "But if I was still just Harry, could I do this?" He didn't move, and Legolas stared at him, tense, waiting for - something.

And then suddenly a soft phantom finger brushed gently across his lips, and another hand smoothed over the front of his tunic. Legolas's eyes widened, and he twisted his wrists in his bonds, squirming in an attempt to get the hands off. Shivers went down his spine.

"Harry -" he said, hating the hoarseness of his voice. "Stop."

"Could I do this?"

A wet tongue explored the crevasse of his ear, and then a mouth sucked gently on the pointed tip of it until Legolas shuddered. A hand still caressed his cheek gently, and the other hand had moved to rest lightly on his thigh.

Legolas shut his eyes so he would not have to look at Harry's smirking face as the hand on his face slid down his chest, and lower. He caught his cry behind his teeth, and it came out a strangled, tortured moan.

"Don't resist me, Legolas," Harry said softly as the hands slid over his body, and worst of all was the surprising gentleness of the fingers that reminded him so much of Harry before this had all started.

He refused to make a sound the entire time, his only reaction the arching of his spine and a low breath that might have carried a whimper as he came.

When the attack came, exhausted as he was, he did not stand a chance.

He opened his eyes to see Harry smiling down at him, and the smile was not kind.

"Imperio."

Fingers delved into his consciousness before he could even think of trying to put up a fight, and he cried out in despair. He could feel Harry chuckling in his mind. He tried to move, tried to stand, but he knew it was useless. He remembered the last time this spell had been put on him - but oddly, unlike the last time, he could still have coherent thought.

_Good job, Legolas._

The voice came from inside his head and sounded faintly amused.

_It's a new level of control, just for your enjoyment. I get to control you, but I'll let you have your thoughts. I really wouldn't want to miss your anguish as I force you to kill your unsuspecting brethren._

_What?_

_Look, Legolas. There's the shore of Valinor._

Legolas moved only his eyes until they gazed upon the shore.

It was so beautiful that Legolas's heart ached. Gleaming white shores, the water a clear turquoise-blue. They had skirted Tol Eressea to the left, and now the mountain range Pelori loomed in front of him, so tall that the snowcapped tips disappeared into the clouds. One mountain in particular reached taller above the rest, and Legolas knew it to be Amon Uilos, the holy mountain Taniquetil, the dwelling home of Manwe and Varda. He wondered if they were watching the little ship as it floated past and he wanted to cry out so badly that he almost broke Harry's hold.

_They already know_, Harry said in his mind, sounding amused still. _Did you think Ulmo would not tell them? They will wait to see what we choose to do. They will not risk your life. You must be beloved to them. _Now Harry sounded contemplative. _Perhaps they have some other reason for letting us do as we will._

Legolas refused to beg. It felt as if he was looking through another's eyes - he couldn't move, and he knew that if Harry ordered him to stop breathing he would have to obey.

_Not yet_, Harry whispered in his mind, and Legolas felt like shuddering at the soft, sibilant promise he heard in those words; and then there was no more words, and Legolas sensed Harry moving away to wait near the front of the ship.

The mountains moved slowly past Legolas's vision, and when Taniquetil finally left his sight he could have wept. Legolas closed his eyes so he would not have to see the shores of Valinor pass, knowing now that he would die shortly after he would step foot on their shores.

Hours or minutes could have passed before Harry next spoke in his mind.

_I'm going to land the boat on the shore, he said. Look at me_.

Against his will Legolas looked. Harry's face was flushed with excitement.

_There are two elves on the shore,the guards they station along the mountains to watch the sea. We will land on the shore. I will incapacitate one guard. While the other guard is distracted, you will overpower him and bind his arms. Kill the other._

_No_, Legolas whispered, horrified. I will not.

_You will_. Harry sounded smug. _And don't worry about how weak you are. The spell will give you the ability to do as I tell you. Are you ready?_

_I would rather die_, Legolas snarled, but even as the boat's bottom scraped against the beach, Legolas felt himself flying to his feet.

_Eager, Legolas? Let me unbind your hands first._

Harry walked around him and Legolas felt the ropes fall from his wrists. Harry's touch felt like silk on his skin. Harry pressed the rope into one of Legolas's hands.

_Go._

"Ho, traveler!" one of the elves shouted, obviously recognizing Legolas's silvan heritage. The guards were relaxed as they walked casually towards the boat, and Legolas's mind shied away from what he was about to do.

He heard a whisper from the boat and suddenly one of the elves, a brown-eyed elf, dropped unconscious to the ground. The other elf, a blonde, blue-eyed Sindar who seemed younger than his companion, rushed forward with a cry.

"Amdin?" the younger elf asked, kneeling down next to the other elf. Legolas stepped up next to him, feeling as if he was in a dream.

_Do it. Now._

_No!_

He cried out mentally, anguished, even as he somehow found the strength to grab both of the younger elf's arms.

"What are you doing?" the elf asked in astonishment, but there was no fear in his eyes, only surprise. Legolas began binding his arms, and the elf's eyes widened as he started to struggle.

"Let me go," he said, angrier now, but somehow Legolas managed to hold on to him as he twisted and squirmed, trying to break Legolas's grip. Finally Legolas managed to tie the knot on the rope, and he pushed the elf to the ground. The elf twisted around until he was lying on his back.

"Well done, Legolas!"

Harry trotted off the boat, grinning, holding his wand in one hand. Legolas hadn't even realized that Harry had brought it. The elf's eyes narrowed as they focused on Harry.

"I was warned about you," he said quietly. "That's why there were two of us at the guard post instead of one."

"That didn't work so well, did it," Harry said cheerfully, and held out a knife to Legolas.

_Take it_.

Legolas gripped it in one hand, staring blankly ahead even as he screamed silently in his mind.

"Are you going to kill me?" the elf asked stonily, but it was Harry who answered him.

"What's your name?"

The elf blinked but showed no other reaction. "Lolindir," he said grudgingly after a few moments. Harry gave him a beatific smile.

"And is that your brother? Legolas, what did Lolindir call his brother?"

_Tell me his name._

"Amdin," Legolas answered flatly. Lolindir glared up at Legolas with clear, pale-blue eyes.

"The Valar warned us you may be a prisoner, son of Thranduil, but we were never told that you played the part of willing accomplice."

Harry chuckled quietly.

_Makes it even better, doesn't it, dear Legolas, that he thinks you're doing this of your own free will. I can't wait to see his reaction when you kill his brother._

_No._

_Kill him now._

_No!_

It was a measure of his strength that Legolas managed a choked cry as he drove the dagger deep into Amdin's chest. The elf came out of his unconsciousness with a high-pitched moan of pain. Blood splattered over Legolas's hands as he withdrew the knife.

Lolindir cried out in elvish, and even through the spell, tears rose in Legolas's eyes at the words.

_Ai, melda onooro!_

_Oh, beloved brother!_

Legolas stood, face expressionless even as Harry walked over and grasped his wrists, bringing Legolas's fingers up to his mouth and kissing each one. Legolas could see the mocking in Harry's eyes as he kissed, almost worshipfully, each bloody finger.

"Look, Legolas," Harry whispered, blood on his lips, as he dropped Legolas's wrists, motioning towards Lolindir.

_Look what you have done._

Against his will Legolas looked at Lolindir on the ground. Shining tears ran from both clear blue eyes as the elf wept silently.

"Saes, dago nin," the elf whispered over and over as he cried.

_Please, kill me._

Harry glanced at Legolas. _Tell me what he said._

"He wishes for me to kill him," Legolas said softly. Lolindir looked up at him with grieving, hate-filled eyes. Harry looked contemplatively down at the young elf.

"Not yet," he promised. "First I need your help."

"I would rather die then help you," Lolindir snarled, managing even with his hands bound behind his back to twist into a sitting position.

Harry's eyes narrowed a little in irritation. He kneeled beside the elf and spoke quietly into Lolindir's pointed ear, so quietly that even Legolas could not hear. Whatever Harry said made Lolindir's eyes widen.

"There is no way you could know that," Lolindir breathed. "How do you -"

Harry smiled. "Does it matter how I know?" he asked. The elf, still staring incredulously at Harry, shook his head slowly. Harry's smile grew approving. "All you need to know is that she will die, painfully, if you do not do as I say."

Legolas saw Lolindir's limbs trembling. "Caro den i innas lin," he said, voice shaking. _Make it thy will._

"Very good."

_What did you tell him?_

_Only that I know his family, and I know of his elder sister who still lives in Middle-earth in Lothlorien._

Legolas did not question how Harry had come to that knowledge. Nothing came as a surprise to him now, nothing except for the grief that washed over him as he looked at Amdin's lifeless body; he had expected - hoped - to be numb to death by now. He had accepted his own already.

_That is well. Perhaps you will not fight me, then, when it is your time to die._

_Leave my mind._

_Why? I rather like it here._

Suddenly, Harry's voice lost all its teasing tone; he sounded serious, almost nervous, excited. _Now, Legolas. I want you to tell Lolindir to show us the Door of Night._

Legolas felt himself tense even under the spell. The pieces fit together so suddenly and perfectly that he felt as if he would scream.

_You - you monster -_

_Stop trying to figure me out, Legolas. Thinking isn't your strong point._

_Harry, you do not know what you are doing!_ Legolas felt frantic. No matter what changes Harry had gone through, nothing had prepared him for what Harry wanted to do now. Had he fallen so far?

_I know exactly what I'm doing. Stop resisting me and tell Lolindir what I have told you. Now._

"Lolindir," Legolas said, his voice cracking under the strain of resisting Harry. Lolindir kept his eyes on his brother's body. "You must lead us to the Door of Night."

Lolindir's head whipped towards Legolas, his mouth open. He shook his head in muted denial, his eyes shocked and wide and scared.

_Legolas. Remind him of his sister._

"Your sister, Lolindir."

"N-no -" Lolindir said, voice choked.

_Tell Lolindir that she will die painfully. I will make sure she stays alive for days before she dies._

"She will die after days of suffering, Lolindir."

There was a long silence.

"It's - it's to the west." Lolindir squeezed his eyes shut. "You must skirt the Pelori around to the rear of Valinor. Once you reach the very back of the island, you will find Earendil and his ship Vingliot guarding the entrance to the door. The only times to bypass him is in the morning and the evening, when he and his ship sail around the world as the morning and evening star. There are words - that you must speak -" Lolindir stopped, biting his lip as if unsure whether to continue. "You must say, 'Le nallon si di-nguruthos,' and the doors will open." His eyes opened, and he glared at Legolas and Harry with a renewed vigor. "But you must not go. Those words must only be spoken by the Valar at the due time. He must not be released!"

"Don't worry, Lolindir," Harry said, smiling lazily. "I only wish to speak with him."

_Ask him whether it is wiser to take those two horses or to travel by boat. Tell him not to lie._

_Why must I do this?_

_It is not my fault that you suffer beautifully, Legolas._

"Which is the faster way, Lolindir - the horses or the ship? Do not lie."

Lolindir's face was a picture of misery. "Horses," he murmured so softly that Legolas could barely hear.

"Perfect," Harry said cheerfully. "Lolindir, get on your horse. Legolas and I will ride the other."

"What?" Lolindir's eyes were round. "But - I thought it was only you who would travel to the door -"

"Just to make sure you haven't lied, little Lolindir," Harry said.

_Help him get onto the horse._

Legolas did as he was told mechanically, hoisting Lolindir up onto the dainty brown mare.

_Retie his hands in front of his body. We don't want him falling of the horse, do we?_

"You do not know what you are doing," Lolindir hissed at Legolas as Legolas worked to retie his hands. "You will both die there. Only one of great power can enter those doors."

"We will both die," Legolas answered softly, his voice almost breaking as he betrayed the spell if only for a few moments. "It will be a blessing."

_Don't disobey me, little elf_, Harry said, sounding a mixture of amused and annoyed. _Get on the horse._

_It is truth. You will die the minute you lay hands on the door._

Harry swung up behind Legolas and dug his feet into the stallion's heels, motioning for Lolindir to precede them. Lolindir's mare trotted forward.

_I have power enough to enter._

Legolas felt a little shiver run down his spine. Never before had he even dreamed that he would head towards the mightiest dweller in Arda, first son of Iluvatar.

_Yes_, Harry whispered in his mind, sounding almost reverent. _Melkor_.

_Morgoth_, Legolas thought in despair, as Harry's arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Death awaited him at that black door. It was a measure of his hopelessness that he welcomed it.

* * *

A/N: Well, that was depressing. Also, thank you to the encyclopedia of Arda, which helped me immensely so that I don't misspell words like Taniquetil. Review review review! 

A/N 2: To Kat, who basically called me immoral, wishy-washy, and comparable to a racist.

Let me tell you something about wishy-washy. If you skip along in life never questioning your beliefs, then I pity you. You need to question your beliefs. If you question them, spend a period of time thinking about them, then return to your belief as before, stronger than ever, then that is better than just merrily never questioning ANYTHING.

And when the goddamn hell did I single out a "certain group of people" and was all mean to them? I assume you're talking about gay people here. Do you see me at anti-gay rallies or lobbying for an anti-gay marriage amendment? No. All I did was withdraw from writing slash because I was having a conflict about whether it was right for me, as a Christian, to write it or not.

From now on, if you want to call me a bigot, fuck off instead. I don't give a flying rat's ass if I made you angry. If people changing their minds makes you angry, then go live as a hermit.


	16. Happy April Fool's Day!

Black Eyes

Chapter Sixteen: ur mum lolz jk jk jkj kjkjkjkjkjkjjkjkjkjk kjkj!

by ME

A/N: OMG i wurkd sooooo hard so plz revew, dunt be st00pid lol jk jk jk jk jkjkjkjkjk!

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Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition.

By that sin fell the angels.

Henry VIII, III:2

(lolz i dun no wut dat meens but mah teecher sayd he wuz famus so i reed it! lolz!)

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So Leggi wuz all like heyz Hairy wut r u doin? I dun tink dis is a gud ideea, y rent u tlakin 2 me! Nd den Hairy wuz lik u r so dum and st00pid, Legi.

Nd Legi wuz like but Hari iluv u, dun do dis 2 meh pleez!

Butt Hairi wuz so meen but Leggi dint no why, so Hairy wuz lyk no Legi we hav 2 go, cum on u st00pid, git on teh hors. So leggi wuz lik u r rilly mean im not talkin 2 u no mor.

Nd Hari wuz lyk um yea.

Den Morgoth wuz all lyk mmkay cum 2 muh house nd Hairy wuz lyk lolzkk but he dint rilly want 2, nd den Morgoth laffed cuz he herd a funi jok.

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OMG did u liek it coz i wurked hard on it! OMG reveew plz plz pleez pleeze!111!1!one!1!

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P.S. Happy April 1, an innocent day which has nothing to do with this post at all!


	17. Master of Mazes

Black Eyes

Chapter Sixteen: Master of Mazes

by Capella

* * *

A/N: Good GOD this took a long time. Only one chapter left after this.

* * *

"Wrath is shaped with a sword."

-- Beowulf

* * *

It had taken a day and a half to reach where Lolindir had told them to go. None of them had eaten, but midway through their journey, Legolas's horse had scented out a small stream for them to drink. 

Now Harry stared up at the towering mountain in front of him, reaching high into the heavens, the peak disappearing into a puffy, dark cloud. His mind was whirling. He didn't know which thoughts were his, anymore.

He climbed off of his horse and smacked its rump smartly; the mare nipped at his knuckles lazily and wandered off to graze on the admittedly unhealthy, withered grass that grew between the mountain and the edge of the sea.

_Legolas, get off your horse. Get Lolindir off, too._

He swayed for a moment with the power that it took to send those words; Harry had never heard of anyone in the Wizarding world holding a spell actively on someone for as long a period of time as he had.

He twisted to look at Legolas's blank, beautiful blue eyes as he helped the trembling Lolindir off the horse, and turned back to face his goal.

There was a door in the mountainside.

It was a normal-sized door, made out of dark wood, so dark it was almost black, with a shining silver doorknob. Harry stared at it as if transfixed. He heard Legolas breathing heavily behind him and knew that Legolas was attempting to break the spell.

"Harry, please -- do not open it --"

Harry did not bother to answer, instead stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

He touched the doorknob.

A flood of agony/ecstasy flew down his spine and to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he flung his head back, his mouth open and panting, eyes squeezed shut. Tears ran down his cheeks.

"Harry, do not open it!"

Harry managed to turn the knob. He felt Legolas lay a hand on his arm and it burned fiercely along with the raw pain/pleasure running along his nerves.

Grimacing with pain, he pushed with all of his strength at Legolas's mind as he pushed at the same time at the heavy door.

"Le nallon si di-nguruthos," he whispered, and heard Legolas cry out behind him. To thee I cry now in the shadow of death.

_Legolas -- bring Lolindir and come._

The door creaked open into a dark abyss.

He stepped through.

* * *

_You know what he has done, Maiar._

_Yes._ His voice was calm. _What would you have me do?_

_It is the appointed time._

_It was believed by my order that the appointed time has yet to come --_

_It is the appointed time._

_As you wish._

_He is the vessel by which Morgoth has chosen to achieve his goal. Once it is finished, you must remove him quickly. Three of his companions travel here even now; Ulmo, Uinen shall speed their passage, and I shall lead the winds. Go to the door with haste, and bring him back to the city. His companions will wait for him there._

_And if he does not succeed?_

_He will succeed._ There a slight pause_. But there will be death._

* * *

Harry had not know where his own thoughts came from, anymore, but it had ceased to frighten him. 

Now, as he found himself stepping from the doorway -- which disappeared as soon as Legolas and Lolindir stepped through -- a searing pain went through his head, and suddenly it was as if his thoughts were separated into two. His vision flickered to black for a moment. He fell to his knees, crying out as he tried to figure out the two streams of thought running through his mind. He wanted to hurt Legolas. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to snap Lolindir's skinny neck. He wanted to fall on his knees and beg for Lolindir's forgiveness. He wanted to make the proud race of elves and the traitorous race of men fall to their knees in worship, begging forgiveness. He wanted to run home into Legolas's arms and pretend as if nothing had happened.

He slowly stood even as the sibilant thoughts of death circled round his mind. Looking back at Legolas, he saw the that elf's eyes were still blank, and for two seconds struggled between lifting the curse. He began to speak the words to end the spell.

do not lift it

His mouth closed. Legolas continued to stare at him blankly.

come here

He took a step forward, and then another. The black mist surrounding him only allowed sight for two feet; beyond that, everything was an impenetrable fog of black and gray.

"Please," he heard Legolas say from behind him, but he tightened his hold on Legolas's mind almost without a thought.

And then the fog parted around a figure as dark as the mist around it; the figure knelt on one knee, its wrists shackled and bolted to the ground to either side of its legs. It was robed and hooded, and the folds of fabric covered all parts of its body but its graceful hands, which were white as paper. The figure's head was bowed.

Harry stopped. The voices in his head were increasing in pitch and frenzy; orders to kill contrasted with desires for peace.

The figure raised its head. Harry heard Lolindir whimpering in fear, and a cold sweat had broken out on his own body.

Two slitted, black eyes stared back at him. A pair of chapped lips stretched over white, white teeth in a horrible grin, the lips cracking and bleeding, sending ribbons of black blood over the figure's chin. Delicate eyebrows slanted over the black eyes. It's -- his -- face was white, the bleeding lips black. The hair -- which looked inexplicably soft -- hung out from the edges of the robe and onto the figure's chest, and was black as night.

"Morgoth," he heard Legolas whisper in agony behind him. Harry felt as if there were a whirlwind in his mind; he could neither think nor breathe correctly, and tiny stabs of pain pricked him all over his body.

Morgoth's hideous grin never wavered.

_YOU HAVE COME_

Someone was screaming. It took Harry a few moments to realize it was him.

The voice seemed to swirl around him, stabbing into his mind and his body like knives until he was driven to his knees, clutching at his ears in a futile attempt to get the voice -- out. Something warm and wet trickled through his fingers from where they were pressed over his ears; he took a hand away from his ear. It was covered in blood. Tears streamed down his face from the pain, and when he reached up to wipe them away, his fingers came away stained red as well.

"God." The words left his lips in a pained whisper, and Morgoth laughed, a sound somehow more horrible than Harry could have imagined. "God," he said again, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt, rather than saw, his vision flicker -- interestingly enough, this time as it flickered, so did the dark voice in his mind.

_STOP FIGHTING ME, LITTLE ONE._

"What --" he whispered, but could not continue. The presence of Morgoth had robbed him of his ability to speak for the moment; the black eyes of the Valar kept him on his knees. He winced in pain as Morgoth laughed. God -- he was in his mind.

"Why -- am I here?"

_STUPID BOY._ Melkor sounded amused. _HAVE YOU NOT REALIZED WHAT HAS BEEN AFFLICTING YOU THESE PAST DAYS? HAVE YOU NOT REALIZED WHY YOU HAVE COME HERE, TO THIS PLACE, NOT KNOWING WHERE IT WAS OR EVEN WHAT IT CONTAINED? HAVE YOU NOT REALIZED WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR DRIVING FORCE SINCE YOU LOST YOUR SIGHT?_

"It was you," he breathed. "You. You made me do this."

Melkor smiled, his coal-black eyes glinting. _OH, YES. YES, BOY. HOW THOUGHTFUL OF YOU TO COME HERE -- YOU, WHO COULD BE INDWELT BY A VALAR'S SPIRIT AND NOT DIE. YOU, WHO ARE POWERLESS ON YOUR OWN, I COULD GIVE TO YOU MY POWER AND MY SPIRIT, LEAD YOU TO THIS PLACE SO YOU COULD SET ME FREE._

"What --"

_LET ME SHOW YOU._

Suddenly Harry was hit by a deluge of images, so strong that he dropped forward onto his hands, scraping his palms on the gray, rocky ground. He saw what Morgoth -- Melkor -- had been, before he had sinned. He saw the great spider, he saw the shining lamps and felt Melkor's lust; he felt Melkor's fiery passion for the Silmarils; he saw as Melkor transformed from a shining being into a black creature of the dark. And he saw as Melkor was dragged to Valinor and sentenced to a life in this dark, lonely place. He felt Melkor's hatred as he was thrown and chained here.

He felt Morgoth's glee when he felt Harry's presence.

Harry was finally released from the memory, and he panted for air -- air that felt black in his lungs. His arms trembled as he pushed himself to his feet.

"You --" he hissed, but Morgoth cut him off.

_I AM NOT DONE YET, MY LITTLE ONE. ALTHOUGH YOU ARE PATHETICALLY WEAK, IN MY STATE, IT WAS HARD FOR ME TO POSSESS YOU. YOU HAD TO BE WEAKENED FURTHER. I PUSHED MY SPIRIT INTO YOUR BODY, BUT YOU DID NOT ACCEPT IT AT FIRST._

Morgoth grinned, showing long, sharp canines. Harry shuddered convulsively.

I_ DID THE ONLY THING I COULD DO. I COVERED YOUR SIGHT, MAKING YOU VULNERABLE AND WEAK. AS YOUR MIND DETERIORATED, I SNUCK INTO THE CRACKS, INFLUENCING YOU, GUIDING YOU. AS I SEATED MYSELF SUITABLY, I RELEASED MY HOLD ON YOUR SIGHT. IT WAS EASIER FOR ME TO SEE OUT OF YOUR EYES._

_BUT SOMETIMES YOUR MIND REBELLED WITHOUT YOUR OWN KNOWLEDGE. IN THOSE TIMES, I WAS NEARLY FORCED OUT, BUT I KEPT MY TENUOUS GRASP ON YOUR SIGHT. IN TIME, I WAS ABLE TO TIGHTEN MY GRIP AGAIN AND AGAIN, UNTIL YOU STOPPED_ _FIGHTING_.

"Stop it." Harry hardly realized he was crying until he felt the warm droplets splash onto his shirt, soaking through to his chest. "Stop it. I never stopped fighting you."

_BUT YOU WILL WANT TO HEAR THIS, YOUNGLING. ALTHOUGH I WAS IN YOUR MIND, I NEVER CONTROLLED YOU. I SIMPLY INFLUENCED YOU. SO LONG AS I COULD PUSH YOU ENOUGH SO THAT YOUR DESIRES MIRRORED MY OWN, IT WAS EASY TO STAY IN YOUR MIND. SUCH AS WHEN YOU TOOK YOUR DIRTY ELVEN LOVER AGAINST HIS WILL._

"No. That -- that wasn't me!"

_NO?_ Morgoth laughed. _PERHAPS YOU TRIED TO FORCE ME OUT AT FIRST -- BUT YOU DID IT, DID YOU NOT?_

"Shut up!" Harry cried, tears leaking from his eyes; the tears felt sandy, and they hurt as they escaped. "You made me do that!" He heard Legolas whimper softly.

_DO YOU HATE ME?_ Melkor hissed keenly, a gleaming evil light in his eyes. _WHY SHOULD YOU HATE ME? I HAVE ONLY GIVEN YOU WHAT YOU HAVE ALWAYS LONGED FOR. YOU WANTED THE DARK POWER, AND EVERY TIME YOU FELT MY PRESENCE YOU REVELED IN IT, ELSE YOU WOULD HAVE OVERCOME ME._

Harry's eyes widened. "No, I --"

_YOU WANTED IT, DID YOU NOT? YOU WANTED AN EXCUSE TO DESTROY, RAPE, KILL, AND YOU WERE GIVEN IT._

"No!"

_WHY DID YOU NOT THROW ME OUT?_

"God, stop," Harry whispered desperately, pressing his hands over his bleeding ears, trying to block out Melkor's insidious voice weaving into his consciousness.

_LOOK AT HIM_, Melkor whispered, and the low, caressing tone was soft as the pillow that smothers a babe. Against his will Harry turned his head and looked at Legolas, who was staring at him in a horrified sort of revulsion. The two conflicting desires, to hurt and to comfort, warred so strongly within him that he had to clench his fists at his side to keep from doing one or the other. Blood from a cut stood out achingly sharp on the pale skin of Legolas's neck. _WILL HE EVER FORGIVE YOU? WILL IT MATTER IF HE DOES?_

"What?" Harry said, his eyes still riveted on Legolas's terrified gaze.

_IT IS NOT HIS LOVE YOU WANTED, AS IT IS NOT HIS FORGIVENESS YOU WANT NOW. YOU WANTED HIS BODY. YOU WANTED TO TAKE HIM AGAINST HIS WILL. YOU WANTED TO, AND I ALLOWED YOU THE OPPORTUNITY. DO YOU HATE ME?_

"But I didn't mean to! I didn't want to!"

_BUT YOU DID._ Melkor whispered, eyes flashing. _YOU TOOK HIM AND YOU ENJOYED IT. YOU WISH YOU COULD DO IT AGAIN._

Legolas's eyes pleaded with him, red-rimmed from tears; Lolindir lay unconscious beside him. When Harry did not answer, Melkor's lips drew back in a smile.

_YES, HE IS BEAUTIFUL. BEAUTIFUL AS THE ELVES WHO SAILED TO THE GRAY HAVENS, LONG AGO. I KNOW OF A WAY YOU MAY HAVE HIM._

"What?" Harry asked softly, his eyes still on Legolas. Legolas jerked when Harry spoke, his blue eyes wide, and at that moment Harry realized that Legolas heard everything Morgoth sent to him.

"Harry, no --"

_SURRENDER TO ME,_ Morgoth said softly, seductively. _OPEN YOUR MIND FOR ME. SURRENDER IT. CARRY MY SPIRIT BEYOND THESE WEAK WALLS INTO THE WORLD. I WILL FIND A DIFFERENT VESSEL THERE, AND ONCE I HAVE MADE THE VALAR MY SLAVES, YOU WILL TAKE YOUR PLACE BY MY SIDE. AND YOU MAY KEEP YOUR BEAUTIFUL LITTLE ELF._

"No!" Harry said immediately, his voice surprisingly strong; he turned to face Morgoth, his lips drawn back in a snarl. The dark voice in his mind was silent, and Harry wondered if Morgoth had to concentrate on their conversation too much to keep Harry under thrall. "I won't do that. I won't help you take over."

_I WILL NOT LET YOU LEAVE ALIVE. IF I MUST, I WILL SUCK THE MAGIC OUT OF YOU UNTIL YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A WITHERED HUSK, AND THEN I WILL BREAK FREE OF THIS PLACE MYSELF._

And then suddenly something was _pushing_ against his mind, demanding entrance, shoving so forcefully that Harry felt himself caving under the pressure. It was a dark, hurtful presence. Harry felt a barrier in his mind break.

All of the strength suddenly left his body; he collapsed onto the ground, his face bouncing off the rocks, slashing the skin of his cheeks; he could not find the strength to lift a limb. He heard Legolas cry out behind him, and knew the curse was broken; he could no longer hold on to the spell. Arms were on his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. Blue eyes stared into his own.

Harry arched his back in pain. It was if a tube had been pushed into his body and someone was slowly drawing out his strength.

He _breathed_.

And suddenly he felt a fraction of his strength returning, and he felt Morgoth's startled anger over their -- bond? connection?

He breathed in again and pulled on their link, urging the magic back into his body. But as it rushed back into him, giving him strength, he felt a tiny thread of hatred with it and realized that he could take Morgoth's power from his body, just as Morgoth could take his.

He found Legolas's hand with his own and squeezed, pulling again on the link, breathing in the magic that danced along that link back to his body. Morgoth was roaring angrily in his head, and for a moment, he felt the balance of power tip against him.

But then Legolas was whispering in his ear, and he couldn't understand the words but the voice was so sweet -- he found a final reserve of strength and pulled with all his might, and suddenly it was easy to pull in the magic, as if Morgoth's hold had simply released.

He could not stop.

Panicking as he felt evil flowing into his body along with Morgoth's power, he tried to cut the connection -- but it would not be severed. He panted as the rush of power threatened to knock him unconscious. Unable to contain himself, he flew to his feet; it felt as if his whole being was on fire.

He looked to his left, and Morgoth was crumpled on the ground, his robes covering his face. A black pool of blood surrounded the body.

And then the power stopped. Harry looked at Legolas. The elf suddenly seemed twisted and wretched to him, an outlet for his lust only. He looked with disdain upon the weak elf on the ground who was just stirring to consciousness.

He looked Legolas in the eyes and saw Legolas's mouth part in surprise and fear. Somehow, he knew the words of the Imperius curse were not needed to bend Legolas to his will.

"Kill the spare," he whispered, and heard without shock that his voice was cold and full of power. His darkened vision caught Legolas's fine trembling. The elf's mouth was open as he sought breath.

_Do it_, he thought.

Legolas cried out in pain and drew the knife from his belt; he slashed it quickly across Lolindir's throat, blood splattering onto his face. Then Legolas dropped the knife in horror.

"Harry," he whispered, falling to his knees. "Harry."

Harry watched in amazement as a fine black mist seeped through his pores into the air. As if a gate had been lifted, he realized what he had just done.

_Kill the spare._

_Kill the spare._

_Kill._

"Oh, God --" Harry screamed, and fell to the ground as the blackness of unconsciousness took him.


	18. Neither Sun Nor Moon NEW Dec 31

Black Eyes

Chapter Seventeen:

by Capella

* * *

A/N: This is it. The Ending Chapter to end all chapters. Sorta. Didn't think I'd ever do this.

It's been a great trip, you guys. I appreciate all of your reviews and your support. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have.

* * *

"He is at peace--this wretched man--

At peace, or will be soon:

There is no thing to make him mad,

Nor does Terror walk at noon,

For the lampless Earth in which he lies

Has neither Sun nor Moon."

-- Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

* * *

He woke, and it was dawn. Soft, new sunlight streamed in the open window into Harry's eyes and he blinked stupidly, slowly, struggling to remember even his own name. He was reclining in a bed, the padding so soft it ought to be sinful, his head propped up on a pillow, a light blanket of some shimmery material draped over his naked body. There was a chair next to the bed, and a figure sat in it, shining blonde head lowered to a chest in sleep.

Harry shut his eyes tightly, the memories of what had happened flooding back so suddenly it was hard to breathe. God, why was he still alive? Shuddering, he had to lift a hand to his face to make sure the skin was still his, that the black mist he had seen seeping off his flesh was truly gone. In an attempt to forget what he had done and seen, he looked at the figure beside the bed again, and realized that he had last seen him an ocean away.

"Draco?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

Draco stirred, his head lifting from his chest, his hair disheveled and lanky, eyes red from too little sleep. "Harry?" Draco whispered slowly, staring at Harry with slanted gray eyes; Harry was saddened, but not surprised, to see a little wariness in them. He offered a crooked smile that Draco did not return, and dropped it immediately when Draco got up and walked to the window, staring out at the sunrise in a way that made it obvious he was looking anywhere but at Harry.

"Draco," Harry tried again when Draco did not speak.

"Just -- give me a minute." The lines of Draco's neck were tense, his head bowed. Harry saw his fists clenched at his sides.

"Where's Legolas?"

A muscle in Draco's arm jumped as he tightened his fists, but he still did not turn to face Harry. After a long moment, he said, in a voice tight with anger, "Do you really think you have the right to ask that question, now?"

"Please talk to me," Harry pleaded. "Please tell me what's happened. I can't -- I can't sort it all out in my head."

That turned Draco away from the window. "You don't remember?" he said, a faint tone of accusation in his voice. His eyes hardened.

"No -- no, that's not what I meant." His voice sounded desperate even to his own ears. How could he explain? "I kept forgetting, at the beginning, but I remember -- I remember everything now. I just..." He trailed off into silence, unsure of what to say in the face of Draco's cold anger. "Please," he finished weakly. "Please don't hate me, Draco."

Draco stared at him stonily, and Harry remembered what kind of pain Draco's sharp tongue and quick anger could inflict.

Harry turned his face away, breaking eye contact. "Is Haldir --" alive, he wanted to ask, but he settled for "-- all right?"

Draco's face twisted, and the expression was so rare that it took Harry a moment to figure out what he saw on Draco's face was pain.

"He's alive."

Harry exhaled softly. "Have you -- talked to Legolas? Did he tell you anything about what happened?" He felt an embarrassing wetness gathering in his eyes. "Is he here?"

Draco sighed, reluctantly coming back to the chair beside Harry's bed and sitting down, slumping, his elbows resting on his thighs, staring down at his hands.

"I should start from the beginning," Draco said softly, and Harry nodded even though Draco could not see the gesture. And then he thought of something awful, and just as Draco opened his mouth to speak, he burst out:

"You know it wasn't me, right? Legolas told you?"

Harry jumped as Draco erupted into harsh, cruel laughter, laughter with no real enjoyment or mirth, his head thrown back as his shoulders shook.

"That's what Gandalf told me," Draco sneered, and Harry flinched away from the coldness in his eyes. "Maybe I believed that at first. But after Haldir, and that town -- with those children? You, who could resist the Imperius before anyone else?" Draco shook his head, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's. "Maybe it was some kind of coercion. But influence can be resisted if the victim truly abhors what he is forced to do."

Harry bit his lip and turned his head from Draco's burning gaze, remembering Morgoth's mocking, insinuating words: _you wanted it, you could have thrown me out, you took him and you enjoyed it._ "Draco, I'm sorry, I --"

Draco's lips thinned as he pressed them together tightly. "Rumil's dead," he said shortly. Harry's head came up and he stared at Draco incredulously. It was one death for which he could not remember being the cause.

"What?" he gasped. "When? What happened?"

"Rumil was with us at the Gray Havens. He was in love with Thaliephel. After you killed her, Rumil refused to come with us. Somehow, they found out here that his soul had passed on. He faded because he had loved her so much and you killed her." Draco's tone was hard, accusing, unforgiving. Harry bowed his head and could not think of anything to say; although he knew that Draco had liked Rumil, he knew the real reason, finally, of Draco's anger -- Rumil had been Haldir's brother.

"Where's Legolas?" Harry asked finally, his voice shaking and weak. He did not try to look at Draco again. There was a long silence, and then Draco heaved a weary sigh.

"I'll start from the beginning. I'll try to be brief." Harry heard the unspoken 'so I can leave you' in Draco's words and bit his lip hard, tasting blood in his mouth. Draco's words were short, clipped, and impersonal. "I found Haldir the day after you beat him and left him for dead. I returned with him to Minas Tirith with all intentions of nursing him back to health; however, the following morning he escaped me to follow you and Legolas. Legolas's father, Thranduil, Rumil, and I followed him. We caught up to him at -- at the Gray Havens." Draco's voice caught, but he continued on after a moment. "When Rumil found Thaliephel dead, he remained in the Gray Havens. We found Haldir near death, but he insisted on following you to Valinor. According to Gandalf, we reached the shores just as you and Legolas were skirting 'round the mountains. He says we were only a half a day behind you -- I don't know how it was possible, but Gandalf said that some water spirit thing helped us catch up. Gandalf found us as we reached the shores; he gave us horses -- and we ran them nearly to death trying to catch up to you. Haldir, we left in Valimar under the care of some elves.

"We came across this big -- mountain-thing -- it had a couple of doors in it, and it opened up into this -- fog --" Draco stumbled on his words as he tried to find the right ones to describe the Doors of Night; then Harry looked at him and said quietly,

"I know what was inside the doors."

Draco narrowed his eyes and continued on coldly. "Gandalf led us into the fog in these doors. Said it was some preordained shit and everything was going to turn out fine. We came across you maybe an hour later -- we got there just in time to see Legolas slit the throat of that elf -- the _spare_, you called him --"

"God," Harry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, gritting his teeth together so hard that his jaws hurt. The spare. Oh, _God_. Draco paused, and continued on, a tight note of tension in his voice.

"You passed out. This weird black fog engulfed you and then you just sort of -- crumpled. Legolas nearly went mad. Gandalf managed to subdue him somehow and got him on the back of the horse, and swung you onto the pommel. We had to --" Draco shut his eyes tight for a second. "We had to leave the body of the elf there. We tried to take it out and the ground just -- held on to it. It was already starting to decompose when we left."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered in a small voice, not knowing what he was apologizing for but desperately hoping that the apology would somehow cover -- everything. All of what he'd done. There was so much pain and blood and death and it had all been because of him -- he'd beaten Haldir, he'd raped Legolas, he'd killed God knows how many elves in the Gray Havens, he'd forced Legolas to murder two of his innocent brethren -- how could he make up for it all? How could he even start to try?

Draco barely paused, his next words riding over Harry's soft apology. "We came back to Valimar fast. You were barely breathing and Legolas was not much better. When we arrived, Gandalf dumped us off at some healers and ran off to God knows where -- I found out later he went to talk to some council of gods or whatever. The healers whisked me away after they determined I was unhurt. They put you and Legolas in beds. Legolas slept for hours while they worked on him. He was --" a muscle jumped in Draco's jaw -- "raped, and maimed. He had marks on his back from being beaten, broken ribs from being kicked, bruises from who knows how many abuses. He had one finger broken from -- what, maybe you got pissed when he tried to defy you and you broke it to prove you could? The healers fixed him up as much as they could. He woke up, almost none the worse for wear, at the end of the day. You -- you, no one could wake up. Physically, you were fine, but something was broken up here," Draco said, tapping a finger to his temple. He shook his head. "Legolas -- God, I can't imagine why the hell he stuck around for you. But he did. He just stayed over you, sitting in this chair, calling to you for hours, in this voice -- I couldn't even listen to it. 'Harry,' he said, over and over and over. 'Harry, Harry --' "

* * *

_"-- Harry, wake up, please," Legolas whispered. "Harry, Harry, _please_. Please." He stroked the cold face gently, his hands shaking, newly healed finger tracing Harry's lips. "Harry, gods, please. Do not do this to me again." He pushed Harry's bangs back from the pale forehead, touching Harry's face as if he were trying to memorize its shape. Legolas's voice was pained, but his eyes were dry._

_Draco and Haldir stood in the corner of the room together, unnoticed. Draco tried not to notice the careful foot of space Haldir kept between them. _

_He blinked at something Legolas had said. "Again?" he whispered to Haldir -- whispered, even though he knew Legolas would not hear his words. Haldir nodded._

_"It was during Harry's first time in Middle-earth. Did he not tell you?" _

_Draco frowned. "One of Harry's friends told me about what had happened. I knew Legolas hurt him, but that's the extent of it."_

_"Part of what happened is Harry's to tell alone. What I will tell you is that after spending a time as Sauron's captive, both Legolas and Harry escaped; however, at the final battle in front of the gates of Mordor, Harry was killed. Legolas nearly died from grief." Haldir shut his eyes briefly. "I do not know if that is what will happen now. By all accounts, he should already be faded from -- what Harry has done to him. But I do not know what will happen to him if Harry dies."_

_Haldir's eyes were shining suspiciously, and Draco knew that while Haldir was saddened at the prospect of Legolas's death, it was not Legolas who Haldir was thinking of now, but his dead brother. Saying fuck-all to Haldir's reservations, he sidled up close to the elf and wrapped an arm around the slim waist. Haldir stiffened but did not pull away. He could feel the elf shaking from exhaustion._

_"We can't do anything else here," he whispered sadly, looking at Legolas, who sat in the bedside chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands, and at the unmoving Harry, with his innocent, angel's face. "You need to rest some more. Come." Even as they left, he could still hear Legolas's soft calls._

* * *

Harry was quiet as Draco trailed off, obviously waiting for him to fill in the blanks. Shivering, he pulled the blanket up to his chest, trying not to think of the time in Sauron's captivity to which Haldir referred. Finally, Draco asked the question himself, tired of waiting for Harry to answer.

"Harry," he said to get his attention, and then: "What happened when you and Legolas were held captive?"

Harry shuddered and did not speak. The faded, barely-visible marks on his back seemed to burn. He had already discussed this once, with Hermione; he did not want to discuss it again.

"Harry." Draco's voice was hard. "What happened?" When Harry continued to remain silent, Draco's voice got louder and angrier. "I can go pry it from elf-boy if you want me to, but I'm sure it's not something he wants to talk about either --"

"I was raped, okay?" Harry ground out. "Jesus. Just -- that's what happened. Okay?"

It was Draco's turn to be silent. And then, in a quiet voice, as if he expected Harry to fly to pieces, he said, "It was Legolas."

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"What happened?"

His voice was hoarse, unsteady. "Legolas was taken by a band of Orcs. I caught up to them but was captured myself and brought to Sauron. He -- he'd possessed Legolas. Not like Morgoth did to me, but differently. Like the Imperius curse, but stronger, unresistable. But I didn't know." He lowered his head, staring down at his hands. He spoke softer now. "Legolas took me to a cell and whipped me. He raped me later. And -- again. It wasn't really him; it was Sauron. But I still...I still blamed him for it."

Draco's eyes had a light of understanding in them. "Is that why --"

"Yes. I -- when I raped Legolas, that was all I could think of." He bit his lip when his voice threatened to break. "I knew it wasn't his fault. There was nothing he could have done to resist what happened. He hated it, maybe even more than I did. But still, I..." He felt the first sting of tears in his eyes and hated them. "I did so many things. But I think, even worse than the murder, is what I did to Legolas. Because the murder I could feel was wrong in the back of my mind. But the entire time I was -- I was raping him, I kept thinking, he deserves it. That I was giving to him no less than what he gave to me. That I was being fucking merciful, because he beat me and raped me and I was just going to do it this once. I thought --" But his voice broke, and there was a lump in the back of his throat that prevented him from going on. He felt a betraying tear start its way down his face and wiped it angrily away. Draco's eyes were wide.

"Harry --"

"Can we just -- talk about something else. Please."

Draco nodded slowly, and then smiled ruefully. "I was going to yell at you again -- well, continue to yell, I guess -- but we can skip that, and you can tell me what actually happened."

Harry blinked. "What -- happened? What do you mean?"

Harry recognized the intent look in Draco's eyes from the Quidditch field. "I want to know your side of the story. I know Gandalf's – which I think you'll find out from the Valar later-- and I know Legolas's, which you can hear from him yourself. What I want to hear now is what you say happened. And I want to know everything. Starting from when you clocked me in the face."

So Harry took a deep breath and told him everything. He told him about the initial blindness and the weird, black-out periods he had at the beginning; the periods of blindness interspersed with the times he could see; how it was only when he was blind that he felt completely normal, but that when he was able to see -- times which had grown more and more often until they ran completely together -- he felt different. Not as if there were something actively telling him what to do, but -- he'd had impulses. Violent ones. And when he wondered why he was doing the thing he was doing, he found a way to rationalize it. Draco seemed skeptical but continued listening patiently, although his brows drew together thunderously when Harry told him of what he'd done to Haldir.

Harry glossed over the murders at the Gray Havens and Legolas's subsequent rape, focusing instead on his feelings of rapture as they grew closer to the shores of Valinor. Hesitantly, he told Draco of using the Imperius curse to force Legolas to kill his brethren. Draco pressed his lips together tightly but said nothing. Harry finished by telling of his encounter with Morgoth, wracking his brains as Draco asked him probing questions. He stopped when he could think of no more and Draco seemed satisfied.

"So," Draco said, his face blank and impossible to read. "You're saying it wasn't you."

"It was --" Harry said, hesitantly. "It was like an Imperius curse. I know, I know --" he said when Draco seemed poised to interrupt. "I know I was the first one in our class to resist it. But it was -- an Imperius curse that I couldn't resist, because I didn't know it was there. It just -- pushed me in a direction and gave me a reason to do it." He wondered if those words sounded as hollow and false to Draco as they did to him. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him.

"But you said that Morgoth told you he only pushed you enough so his desires mirrored your own, that you could have pushed him out."

"I know." Harry bit his lip. "I can't say anything to that. But I never wanted to hurt anyone. I -- I didn't want to hurt Legolas." He felt the tears come again, sliding down his cheeks. "And I'm _sorry_." Suddenly he was crying, unable to stop himself, even when Draco's eyes widened and he got out of his seat, sitting on the edge of the bed instead and enfolding Harry in a hug. Harry buried his face in Draco's shirt, open-mouthed and sobbing for breath, clutching onto Draco's forearms as if he were falling. Draco's hands stroked steadily over his back, intending to comfort but only wringing more tears from his body.

"Shh," he said quietly. "I understand, Harry. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed, over and over, muffling his words in Draco's shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Draco lifted his head when he heard a tiny creak, almost drowned out by the sounds of Harry's crying. He widened his eyes to see Legolas standing in the doorway, one hand on the post, frozen. His eyes were trained on Harry's heaving, shuddering back, on Harry's face tightly pressed into Draco's shoulder, on Harry's white-knuckled hands kneading Draco's arms.

_'He's awake_,' Draco mouthed to Legolas unnecessarily, wincing as Harry's fingernails dug into his skin. His hands never slowed on Harry's back._ 'Come in.'_

Legolas shook his head, his eyes wide, filled with too many conflicting emotions for Draco to separate -- fear, anger, love, desire, sadness. He backed out of the room, never taking his eyes off of Harry. Legolas did not make a noise, but Harry stiffened in Draco's arms.

"He can't even stand to be near me, can he," he whispered, nearly inaudible. "He can't even come into the same room." He clutched onto Draco harder. "I've ruined everything." He sounded so frail and lost that Draco held him tighter.

"It will be all right," Draco lied, and he knew the words sounded as false to Harry as they did to him, even though Harry nodded blindly into Draco's shirt, breath coming in unsteady, now-quiet sobs. Draco smoothed Harry's sweaty hair back from his forehead. "It will be all right."

* * *

It was later, much later, when Draco had left and Harry was left alone to think, that he received a summons from the Valar. Harry shot up in bed when he heard the footsteps approaching the door; it was a tall, graceful blonde elf, with deep green eyes. He looked down at Harry, and Harry was shocked to see no look of hatred or fear.

"The Valar do summon you to their court," he said gently. "A guide will be waiting outside this room for you, to lead you to where the Valar wait." With that the elf left, as silently as he had come. Harry got out of the bed slowly, his joints stiff, and saw a pair of clothes waiting on the chair by the bed for him. He pulled them on, wondering all the while if he was being lead to his execution.

Later, looking back, he hardly remembered the trip to Mahanaxar and the Ring of Doom, where the Valar held council. He remembered studying gleaming white stones under his feet, following the elf guide in front of him only by listening to the soft steps of his boots on the ground; he did not look up at the beautiful buildings surrounding the path nor at the clear blue sky. All of a sudden, an almost painful light forced its way past Harry's eyes into his skull, and he saw the elf guide in front of him back away. Harry winced, shielding his eyes and resisting the urge to fall to his knees in the face of such an awesome presence. The light slowly faded -- or perhaps his eyes adjusted -- and he found himself facing thirteen beautiful, glowing figures. He blinked and realized that one was missing -- the sea-god whom he had confronted.

_Welcome_.

Harry recognized this presence as Manwe, and he bowed his head in respect, although a little anger simmered underneath the surface -- he knew that any of these beings, powerful as they were, could have stopped him at any time in his trip, Legolas's threatened death be damned.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

_There is much sadness in you_, the beautiful gray-eyed spirit whom he recognized as Nienna said. _You are not much improved since last I saw you_.

Harry bit back a sarcastic reply and waited. He knew there was a point to this meeting -- and it was not to discuss his feelings. If they were going to execute him, he wished they would hurry up with it. A little knot of fear grew in his stomach.

_You are wondering why we have called you here_, Varda said softly, her voice like bells._ We will not punish you in any way_.

At that, Harry's eyes widened despite himself, and she smiled. _You are a hero in this world, Harry. You have done what none of us had the authority to do._

"What?" Harry asked, bewildered. "You're -- gods. You have more power than I could ever even imagine. How did I do --" He shook his head, lost. "I don't understand."

Manwe took over where Varda had left off. _Morgoth was once a Valar of great standing, equal or greater than myself. When he turned to the paths of evil, it took many of us -- and many lives of First-born and Men -- to imprison him. But it was decreed that his fate should not be decided until the due time, a time of which we were all ignorant; it was a time only Illuvatar, our father, knew. But we did know that this time would come when someone not of this world came to us and defeated him. Your predecessor in this world, Katherine, was captured by Sauron, for he thought that he could imprison her for Morgoth's spirit. But she was too weak for him to use, and her mind broke under his power. We thought then that all was lost._

_And then you came to our world. We knew from the beginning, Harry Potter, what was happening to you. We did not know how events would unfold, but we did know that you were our last hope. Eonwe's indwelling of you was not a mistake. We had to make sure you were powerful enough to stand Morgoth's mind when he finally attacked you, as we knew he would. We did not realize that it would result in your death, but when you did die, Mandos retrieved your soul from the dead so you could go on to face Morgoth and judge him._

There was a dull roaring in his ears. He realized faintly that he was shaking all over.

"You used me," he said numbly. "You didn't even tell me what was going to happen. Did anyone else know?"

_No_, Manwe answered, almost sadly. _We did what we had to do to defeat a powerful enemy. We could not tell you lest he glean the plan from your mind. Only the Valar and Istari knew. Gandalf was the sole creature in Middle-earth to know of our plan. None else._

Harry could not find the words to reply. He suddenly felt drained, tired -- empty.

"I have to -- go," he mumbled, not knowing to whom he was speaking anymore. God. The whole torturous experience had been some sort of plan to kill Morgoth. All those elves dead at the Gray Havens -- he had some idea of how horrifying Morgoth had been when free, for the Valar to have been willing to sacrifice so many.

_Wait a moment_, Manwe said. Harry turned to face him, moving tiredly, like an old man.

_Now that your world and ours has no need of connection, we have decided to close the link between there and here. We do not want to risk an unwitting member of your society stumbling upon this world. The link will be closed tomorrow. We ask that you make a decision as to where you wish to live._

"A -- decision?" Harry asked blankly. Suddenly the situation seemed insanely familiar to him, and he remembered one other time he had stood in front of this council, asking to leave Middle-earth. It hit him that this time he would not be coming back. Legolas would not be coming for him. But he realized that he could not stay here -- among the people, whose kin he

had murdered, and with Legolas, who hated him. At least he had tentative friends at Hogwarts. He had a life. At least there, he could pretend that this had all been a dream, that he never had killed and raped and betrayed, that the one person he'd loved no longer felt the same.

"I'll go," he whispered.

_We will summon you tomorrow. You are dismissed._

Harry turned around and trudged back down the stairs, his mind empty and echoing, too numb even to scream.

* * *

The shadows dancing on the ceiling, created by the flickering fire from a candle, had never been so entrancing before. Legolas stared up at the wooden planks forming the room's ceiling from where he lay on his back on the bed, watching the flickering light and trying desperately, unsuccessfully, not to think about Harry. But every time he tried to sleep, all he could see, feel, were --

-- hands on him. Hurting him, pressing his face down into the wood planks of a ship; a voice, telling him that he deserved it; and it was the voice of his lover.

Weak, he railed silently. Foolish, to keep dwelling on the past that hurt no more than an orc attack. Foolish. Weak.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Pain with the face of an angel and the voice of a tempter, pain in a form that he had loved -- did love, gods help him. Pain that -- that he would accept, if only in the form of whom he loved. His mind flailed about, trying so hard to separate the actions of someone he loved from one who had hurt him -- tried and failed.

_It was no fault of his_.

He knew it to be true, now. After Legolas had finally given up his vigil at Harry's side, Gandalf had talked to him and explained everything – Morgoth's possession of Harry and the Valar's plan; Legolas knew that nothing Harry could have done would have changed anything. He had been entirely unaware of the voices in his mind, pushing him.

But in the back of Legolas's mind, he could not help but wonder, as much as he hated it. Was there nothing Harry could have done? Could he not have resisted?

_It was no fault of his._

Thinking that made him feel a modicum less sick, so he whispered it aloud to himself.

"It was no fault of his."

"Do you really believe that, Legolas?"

Legolas sat up in bed quickly, head whipping in the direction of the voice. Harry stood in the doorway, his hand on the frame as if he needed it to support himself. All his emotions flickered across his face -- guilt, exhaustion, longing -- in one instant as Legolas's eyes met his. Harry was never good at hiding how he felt under times of extreme duress. This was one of those times. Harry continued only when it was obvious that Legolas would not speak.

"I know -- that you heard what Morgoth said," Harry said hoarsely, taking a few steps into the room. He was obviously under too much emotional distress to even pretend at holding conversation. "That he had to compel me to go to where he wanted, but that he only had to press -- lightly -- to make me do what I did to you." Harry looked at the ground. "All the things I did to you."

"Harry, you know that Morgoth does not often tell the truth."

"I didn't want to do that to you." It sounded as if Harry was trying to convince himself. Legolas remembered walking in on him and Draco earlier, remembered Harry's heart-rending sobs, and the words he'd whispered over and over: I'm sorry. He knew Harry did not believe what he said now. But instead of saying that, Legolas found himself saying:

"Of course not."

Harry looked up at Legolas, his green, green eyes glistening in the candlelight.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

Legolas felt as if he had been hit in the stomach.

"What?" he asked, wishing his voice did not sound quite as desperate as it did.

Harry looked at the ground again, as if extended eye contact with Legolas was too much for him to bear. "Manwe doesn't want to risk anything else happening. He's closing the link between here and Hogwarts. I agreed to go back. There's -- there isn't anything for me here." He looked up at Legolas, and the tears Legolas had seen glistening his eyes now spiked his lashes, and one trailed a doleful, shining path down his cheek. "I -- I don't suppose --"

"I will stay."

Legolas surprised even himself with the vehemence of his statement. Harry's eyes widened, and then closed. He was silent for a long moment, and when he opened his eyes again, the tears were gone.

"Of course." The words were softly spoken. And then: "I should leave."

Legolas said nothing to stop him, his tongue almost frozen inside his mouth, watching helplessly as Harry turned towards the door.

Harry paused, a hand on the doorframe and turned, his eyes burning bright into Legolas's own.

"Legolas," he whispered. "I know that you don't want to see me again. But just -- for one night. Make me forget that -- that you don't love me." He bit his lip before continuing. "Please, Legolas," he said brokenly. "Please don't hate me."

Legolas stared into Harry's eyes.

"Yes."

Harry walked forward as if he had known what the answer would be, reached the bed where Legolas sat, gently sat down next to Legolas on the covers and stretched a hand forward to touch Legolas's cheek --

_painfearhurtingletmegoletmego_

-- and Legolas jerked his head back, startled and breathing harder and a little bit frightened despite himself. Harry's eyes widened.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Legolas," he said sadly, and when he touched Legolas's cheek this time, Legolas let him. Harry cupped his face in his palm, stroking his thumb across Legolas's lower lip, lingering on a slight swell from a split still healing.

Then Harry was lifting a leg and swinging it over Legolas's body until he straddled Legolas's hips, pushing gently on Legolas's shoulders until he lay back. One hand was on either side of Legolas's head, and Harry stared down at him with bright green eyes. Legolas had to remember how to breathe. Flashes of memories played before his eyes -- moments of passion and hurting so mixed together in his head that he could barely separate the two.

"I won't do anything to hurt you," Harry said seriously, and Legolas nodded, trapped by the look in Harry's eyes. "If you want me to stop, just tell me," he said, and then Harry's mouth was on his own.

Legolas closed his eyes, shivering at the tiny moan he heard Harry make, and he wound his arms around Harry's waist almost without thinking as Harry's tongue slipped past his parted lips. Harry's lips, warm and soft, moved down to kiss the spot where his shoulder and neck met, and Legolas stifled a moan between his teeth and brought Harry's head back up for another kiss.

It was almost perfect, somehow, and bittersweet that something so close to perfect could never last, that tomorrow it would be gone.

He reflected on that as Harry lowered himself delicately onto Legolas, gasping out _ohgodohgodohgod _in a low, trembling tone, clutching desperately to Legolas's shoulders for support, his head bowed to his chest and the muscles of his neck corded almost as if he were in pain. Reflexively, Legolas grabbed Harry's sleekly rounded hips to support him, and Harry's skin felt like wet silk beneath his fingers.

And then he was seated on Legolas's lap and he let out a low moan, leaning down to capture Legolas's lips in a kiss; Legolas arched his back when Harry finally started to move, feeling so good it was almost painful. He ran his hands up Harry's heaving, shuddering back, feeling the lean muscles moving smoothly beneath Harry's skin; he traced the twisting, sinuous corded scars, felt the roughness of the brand he had left on Harry's hip, desperately held on to what he did not own.

Harry cupped Legolas's face as he began to rock on Legolas's lap, staring into Legolas's eyes with his own green ones, and for those precious few moments, Legolas let himself believe that nothing had happened, that he still loved Harry and that everything would turn out the way it should. He saw that Harry was crying softly and trying to stifle it.

He wanted it to go on forever. He wanted to stop. He could tell that Harry was close, and he reached up and traced the outline of a cheekbone gently with one finger, and Harry turned his face into Legolas's hand. Legolas felt the wetness of tears on his palm.

"I love you, God, I'm _sorry_," Harry sobbed, and Legolas wondered what he was apologizing for but suddenly it didn't matter because Harry was coming, crying and bruised and more beautiful than Legolas had ever seen him, his hands clutching at Legolas in desperation. Legolas arched as he felt Harry clenching around him, so tightly that he could barely breathe and he opened his mouth in a silent cry and grabbed Harry's hips, burying himself deep inside Harry as he came, wishing that he could somehow make things right again, wishing that he could crawl inside Harry and never come out, wishing that they could stay inside this house and not have to face reality, where Legolas was hurting and Harry was leaving and nothing would ever be right again.

Harry slumped onto his chest, his chest heaving with his racing breaths.

_I love you_, Harry had said.

After a few moments, Harry's chest slowed as he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. Legolas lay awake a while longer, staring at the ceiling again, wondering why the heavy weight of Harry laying across his chest suddenly seemed so abhorrent and unbearable.

He shifted out from under Harry without disturbing his rest and rolled onto his side, sometime during the night managing to fall asleep.

When he woke in the morning, Harry was gone.

* * *

The next morning, Draco rolled out of his bed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake Haldir, sleeping next to him; of course it did not work, and he leaned over and gave Haldir a soft kiss in answer to the question in his eyes.

"I'm going to find Harry," he said softly, and Haldir nodded. Draco pulled on a sinfully silky white shirt and a pair of brown breeches, stepping into the buttery-soft leather boots waiting for him at the door.

He didn't have to look far. As soon as he stepped outside of the house, he saw Harry standing in the street, staring emptily at where Legolas was staying. It looked suspiciously as if he were trying to say goodbye.

"Harry," he called out and walked to where Harry stood, trying not to shudder at the haunted look in Harry's eyes.

"Good morning, Draco."

Draco didn't even make an attempt at small talk. "They're closing the portal this morning, you know."

Harry let out a soft sigh. "I know." When he didn't continue, Draco raised an eyebrow as if to encourage him. "I'm leaving for Hogwarts."

Running a hand through his hair, Draco let out a sigh of his own. He had been afraid that would be Harry's answer. He thought he knew the reason, but he decided to try and figure it out for sure. "I guess you couldn't leave Voldemort there, could you?" he asked, trying not to sound probing. Harry's lips quirked up in a little, humorless smile.

"It's Neville," he said softly, laughing a little at Draco's dumbfounded expression. "It's always been Neville. Dumbledore knows – maybe McGonagall and Snape. Voldemort certainly doesn't. I can't wait to see his expression when it happens."

Draco's mind reeled. He had thought Harry's sense of duty would have been pulling him back to Hogwarts. "Then – why are you leaving?" he asked, because he could not think of another reason. The smile dropped off Harry's face.

"Everyone hates me here," he said softly. "Not you, maybe, and not Gandalf or those – demigods. But everyone else. The elves – I killed their kin, brutally. I could go live with the Men – maybe with Aragorn – but I don't think I could stay there, knowing that Legolas was – somewhere; that I could find him, but if I did, he wouldn't want to see me." Draco saw a small shudder run through Harry's body. "I just want to forget everything, Draco. I want to go back to Hogwarts and pretend like this has all just been a dream. I don't want to remember anything that's happened." A corner of his mouth twitched in an attempted smile. "Maybe I'll ask someone to Obliviate me." It did not sound as if Harry were joking. "What about you?" he asked before Draco could say anything.

Draco smiled, a little sadly. "There's nothing for me at Hogwarts, or anywhere in that world. I would surely be killed when I returned; a new Death Eater who disappears for any length of time without informing Voldemort is thought to have changed their mind and is given no mercy. I have no close friends that I'll miss. Here, I have Haldir. And look --" He held out his arm. The Dark Mark was nearly faded. Draco smiled at the soft look in Harry's eyes. "I really can start over here."

He grabbed Harry's shoulders, forcing Harry to turn and look him straight in the eyes.

"No one hates you here, Harry. The elves understand. They've lived their lives in fear of Morgoth, hearing stories of what he has done. They understand that it was he who made you do those terrible things, and they understand that in the end, it was your strength and will that killed him. You don't even need to ask forgiveness; they've already given it. You're a hero, Harry."

Harry tore out of his arms with surprising strength. "I'm no hero," he said fiercely. He stared at his feet. "I need to go. They're going to close the portal soon." He looked up at Draco, smiling half-heartedly.

Draco blinked sudden tears out of his eyes and pulled Harry into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you, Potter," he said, an inexplicable lump in the back of his throat. "No matter what I've said."

"I know," Harry said softly. "I'll miss you, Draco." He pulled away, looking one last time at the house in which Draco was sure Legolas slept. "Tell him –" Harry bit his lip, looking away from the house. "Tell him that I –" He couldn't continue. Draco felt an overwhelming wave of pity.

"I'll tell him."

Nodding his thanks, Harry started the slow trudge up to the Ring where the Valar waited. Draco watched him go, noticing the slow footsteps and hunched back, as if Harry carried a great weight upon his shoulders. He gave Harry a five-minute head start before dashing into the house.

* * *

Legolas awoke with hands roughly shaking his shoulders; reflexively, he grabbed the wrists of the person and threw him across the room. He blinked when his vision cleared and he saw a rumpled blonde figure getting up from the floor.

Draco smiled ruefully at him. "I guess that really wasn't such a hot idea," he said, rubbing his hip where it'd connected with the floor.

Baffled, Legolas asked, "What are you doing here?"

Draco's face was grave. "Harry is leaving this morning. Now."

Legolas felt a little twist of pain in his chest and it was hard to breathe suddenly. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "I know."

"What?" Draco erupted, startling Legolas into sitting up again. "You _know_? And you're just – letting him _go?_ What kind of idiot are you?" Legolas felt an answering wave of anger.

"It is his choice." The words sounded hollow to himself. "He may do as he pleases."

"Idiot," Draco hissed. "I know you don't blame him for what he did under the influence of that creature. And I know you love him, and he loves you. Don't make the same mistake you did the last time Harry left. Once he leaves, you'll never get him back."

"It is – for the best that he..." But Legolas trailed off, the sentence sounding so false that he could not continue it.

"Harry is in the Ring now, making his decision." Draco's eyes were hard. "If you love him as much as I think you do, you will not sit here and wait for him to leave you forever." Draco slammed the door on his way out, and the sound jolted Legolas back into reality.

Harry was leaving him – again. Legolas's stomach did a painful lurch.

He flew out of bed, ignoring the aches and pains of his still-healing body, throwing on clothes that were lying on the small table by the window. Barely taking the time to slip on his boots, he ran out the door and up the path as fast as he could, the houses a blur on either side of him. He could see the shining lights in front of him and knew that the Valar had gathered to send Harry away. He ran harder, faster than he ever had, hoping against hope that Harry would not be gone already.

He skidded to a halt at the edge of the ring.

The Valar were gathered in a semi-circle, and Harry was in the middle, holding a green glass ball in his hands. His back was to Legolas, and his head was bowed, his back tense; Legolas could barely see him, backlit against the Valar's shining brightness as he was. He saw Harry's hands tighten on the glass ball and knew Harry had heard his arrival. Ignoring the Valar, he spoke.

"Harry." There was no response. Legolas felt himself growing desperate. "Harry, _please_. Please stay with me."

Harry still did not move or put down the glass. Legolas felt hysteria growing in his mind, wanting nothing more than to run to Harry and enfold him tight in his arms.

"Harry. I love you."

He watched in apprehension as Harry stiffened and slowly turned, dreading the expression he would see on Harry's face. He took a step forward involuntarily..

The glass ball dropped from Harry's hand and shattered into a thousand pieces of glittering light on the ground.

Harry turned to face him, and smiled.

_end_

* * *


End file.
